


Count Your Teeth

by icantloseyoutoo



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan, Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Bellarke Bingo, F/M, Flashbacks, Treasure Hunting, Uncharted AU, bellarke AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2020-11-15 06:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20861549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantloseyoutoo/pseuds/icantloseyoutoo
Summary: Strictly speaking, Bellamy’s a criminal. He prefers 'explorer', 'historian', or 'treasure hunter', but in the eyes of the law, he’s a thief. Now retired from his old way of life, he’s living peacefully with Clarke, the incredible journalist he’s proud to call his wife. Everything’s going well until a figure from Bellamy’s past comes knocking, unravelling loose ends from a life he once knew, and threatening to destroy the peaceful existence he’s come to know. How far will he go to save the people he cares about?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another bellarke bingo fic in the works! This is based on Uncharted 4, so obviously a spoiler warning for those of you who haven't played it yet!, I thought the story was great and so applicable to the characters in The 100. Hope you enjoy x

_Fifteen Years Ago_

_The sun beat down on Bellamy’s face relentlessly, the faint sea breeze offering little relief, and he resented the starchy prison uniform darkening with his sweat. It was yard time, one of the few times he could speak to Roan away from the crowds in the canteen. After a quick glance to check he wasn’t being observed, he made sure the wooden cross he had found half an hour ago was hidden discreetly in his pants. He’d spent the last two weeks figuring out how to get to it, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to let a guard confiscate it. As he strode into the main courtyard, past the weights bench and the table where the older inmates played cards, he noticed a commotion to his right and sighed, shaking his head in annoyance. Of course Roan was causing trouble. Bellamy eyed the guards, who were lounging in the shade with one hand on their cigarettes and the other on their guns, seemingly competing in a game of ‘who can give less of a fuck’. Figuring it was safe that they wouldn’t intervene, he approached the crowd. “What’s going on here?”_

_The men parted at the sound of his voice, cheers and shouts dying down as he stared them down. “Oh, nothing.” Roan said nonchalantly from the centre of the circle, grinning widely, exposing a trickle of blood outlining his teeth. “Ilian here was just giving me what was owed, isn’t that right?”_

_Roan gestured to the dark-haired man on the ground, who was spitting blood into the dirt. With a scowl, Ilian reached into his pocket and tossed a pack of cigarettes to Roan, who smiled smugly. Bellamy’s jaw twitched in irritation, and he grabbed Roan by the arm, leading him away from eavesdroppers. “The hell are you doing? Beating someone up over cigarettes? You don’t even smoke.”_

_“But the other inmates do. And so do the guards.” He slipped the pack into his pocket. “Cigarettes are the closest thing to currency around here; never hurts to get someone to turn a blind eye to your business.”_

_“We’re not here to play prison yard politics. Besides, it doesn’t matter, we won’t be here much longer.”_

_Roan gave him a knowing look, a satisfied grin settling across his features. “You found it.”_

_Scanning the courtyard – too many eyes – he nodded for Roan to follow him to a shaded corner of the square. Carefully lifting his shirt, he revealed the tip of the 10-inch long cross to him before covering it over._

_“What is it? A Crucifix?”_

_Bellamy shook his head. “The term ‘crucifix’ is reserved just for images of Jesus on the cross. This guy isn’t Jesus. He’s tied to the cross, not nailed, and there’s no crown of thorns. It’s Saint Dismas.”_

_Roan squinted in confusion. “Who the hell’s Saint Dismas?”_

_Bellamy’s face came alive, as it always did when he had the chance to explain an artefact’s history. “Jesus was crucified in between two thieves – one of them, Gestas, mocked Jesus. The other guy, Dismas, accepted his punishment and repented for his sins, and Jesus welcomed him to Paradise. He’s known as the Penitent Thief.”_

_“Penitent Thief…” Roan tasted the words under his breath, analysing them. “Penitent Thief, I’ve seen that somewhere before, maybe in one of Lexa’s old letters. What do we do now?”_

_“There’s an inscription on the back, some kind of code. Octavia knows Lexa’s history better than any of us; if anyone can figure out what it means, it’s her. We need to get this to her, and then we’re one step closer to the treasure.”_

_Roan nodded. “I’ll grease a few palms, get things in motion to break out tonight. Slip out of your cell and meet me on the West Courtyard just after count – and make sure Octavia’s waiting for us in that boat.” Before they ever even set foot in the prison, they had their escape planned out. The weeks they’d been here had been enough to break through the flimsy wall behind the cell toilet, and to map out their exit route. Bellamy and Roan would hop the perimeter fence, Octavia would be waiting in a boat at the shoreline and drive them out to where Kane landed his sea plane, flying them out of there before the local police knew what hit them. Anyone who found the boat would assume they hit bad weather in the water and went overboard, bodies never to be recovered. The perfect cover story. As Roan walked away, he took out the pack of cigarettes and wiggled it triumphantly. “Told you these would come in handy.”_

-

_Under the cover of darkness, Bellamy slipped past the guards to the West Courtyard. The government in Shadow Valley didn’t exactly make prison funding a priority, so even at night, lights were scarce to save electricity costs. Low funding was another reason the guards were so easily swayed by bribes, and he absently wondered if they would even care if two foreign inmates broke out at all – it wasn’t as if he and Roan planned to stay and wreak havoc in the community._

_“Over here,” A barely audible greeting reached his ears. Roan was standing just under a perimeter fence topped with barbed wire, looking breathless. “Come on, hurry up.”_

_Bellamy jogged over and watched as Roan took off his outer layer, throwing it up onto the barbed wire, providing some protection from the spokes. He braced, squatting and clasping his hands together for Bellamy to use as a foothold. As he approached, Bellamy studied him. His hands were shaking a little, eyes darting around nervously and sweating more than usual under the circumstances. It might have been a trick of the moonlight, but Bellamy could swear he looked three shades whiter. “Everything okay? You seem a little…”_

_“I’m fine.” He snapped. “Just move your ass, Blake.”_

_Shaking off his concern, Bellamy stood on his hands and gripped his shoulder for support as Roan boosted him high enough to reach the top of the fence. Cursing the rattle it made as he settled on the tip of the fence, he steadied himself before reaching a hand down to Roan. Jumping as high as he could, Roan grabbed his hand, and Bellamy strained under the force._

_“Jesus,” he groaned at the effort, pulling him over the edge and jumping down on the other side to make room. He caught his breath as Roan jumped down after him. “You’ve gotta lay off the burgers, dude.”_

_Roan shot him a glare, shoulder-checking him as he moved forwards. “It’s a straight shot to the water, your sister better be there.”_

_“She will be.” Bellamy rubbed his shoulder, rotating it a few times before he set off running after him. They had timed it well, planning their escape so that the guards patrolling the perimeter of the prison (who weren’t on Roan’s payroll) would have just made their rounds outside the West Courtyard, ensuring they had as much time as possible to get the hell out of dodge. Despite that fact, Roan seemed to twitch at the slightest sound, whether it was a leaf crackling under their feet, or a fly buzzing by his ear, insisting on sticking to the shadows as they moved. “Hey, look, I know we’re not exactly on the right side of the law here, but you paid off the guards, right? Why are you so jumpy?”_

_He stopped so suddenly that Bellamy nearly bumped into him. “You know what the deal was with the warden. His influence stops outside the prison walls; if we get caught here we’re dead in the water.” It seemed a flimsy excuse to Bellamy; Roan knew the terms of the breakout before he ever agreed to this. He knew the position they were in, and until now he appeared eager for the challenge; the thrill of danger. Typical sheltered rich kid, he had everything handed to him on a platter growing up, but his day job left him unfulfilled. Instead he spent his spare time moonlighting in illegal jobs like this, mostly just as a human ATM along for the ride, playing at treasure hunter like a kid on Halloween. He’d recently started dipping his toe in the water on the front line of the action – sure, it had never been a commitment as big as this, but the way he was acting was more than the usual jitters._

_Bellamy pushed him for more. “Okay, let’s try that again. Why are you so jumpy?”_

_He huffed, throwing his head to the sky in frustration as he mumbled something under his breath._

_“What?” Bellamy asked._

_Roan whipped around to face him, barking out his answer. “I killed a guard, okay?”_

_Bellamy took a step back, seething. “You did _ _what? What the hell were you thinking?” He shoved Roan, angry and disgusted, but Roan pushed back._

_“We don’t have time for this. He was being unreasonable, wouldn’t settle for a decent bribe. He would’ve kicked up a fuss, messed up the whole thing. He knew too much. Now we’ve gotta get out of here before they find-” Blinding lights switched on behind them, a piercing alarm sounding from the prison as the spotlights on the guard towers began methodically scanning the area. “Too late now – run!”_

_Roan was already sprinting by the time he finished his sentence. They were a good four hundred metres from the shoreline; on this terrain they could make it in maybe 60 seconds if they sprinted, and the adrenaline surging through him spurred him on further. He could hear the faint sound of a boat engine starting, and he thought of Octavia. She must have heard the sirens. Roan reached the water first, splashing loudly as he waded in. Whether it was the noise of his movements or the motion of the water, the spotlight moved their way. Bellamy picked up the pace as bullets landed by his feet, angled from high up on the guard towers. He didn’t bother to listen to the shouts over the prison’s speaker system no doubt telling him to stop, instead diving into the water to hide himself from the bullets. Under the water, he heard the boat approach and surfaced to see a soaking wet Roan reaching a hand out to him, pulling him up. As the two escapees fell backwards together onto the small boat, Octavia steered towards open water and began speeding away from the gunfire aimed at them._

_“Hey big brother,” She called back to him with a smirk. “Missed you. You get what you came for?”_

_Roan took over the wheel for her as she went to examine the cross Bellamy tossed her. Someone like Roan had a little more experience driving boats than either of them. His money was the only reason the Blake siblings were working with him; he was bankrolling the whole job._

_“Get down, Octavia, we’re still being shot at!” Bellamy scolded as she inspected the cross. She was young, stubborn, and convinced of her invincibility, and her boldness was bad for Bellamy’s blood pressure._

_She waved off his concern. “Relax, Bell, we’re fi-” she cut herself off with a grunt, stumbling back to the edge of the boat, the cross falling through her fingers into the water as she looked at her stomach._

_“Octavia?” Bellamy asked, concern rising. “Octavia!”_

_A circle of red stained her white tank top, spreading further by the second. Her eyes met Bellamy’s for a moment, panicked, before they rolled back into her head and her knees gave way. As Roan made a sharp turn to dodge a wave, she vanished overboard._

_“NO!” Bellamy scrambled to where she was, frantically searching for her mane of black hair in the dark sea. “Roan, stop the boat! Go back!”_

_“Not a chance. She dropped the damn cross on her way down, so now this whole thing was for nothing. All I care about now is not going down with her.” He shouted over the roar of the engine and the crash of the waves. “Your sister’s dead, Bellamy. You can stay in the boat, or you can dive right in and join her.” The sounds of gunfire faded as they raced ever further away from the coast, and Bellamy fell to his knees, letting out an anguished scream that reflected the most painful moment of his life. The only person left that he truly loved was dead._

_-_

Present Day

Bellamy thought that maybe, after all these years, he’d be used to having the shit kicked out of him. At least the view was nice. He was lying on his back, winded, just metres from the edge of a cliff plunging down into a waterfall below. Birds flew overhead, singing as they went by. The sun shone down hot on his face, and as he squinted against the glare, he felt the sting from the open cut on his cheek. Echo paced slowly towards him, light on her feet like a cat as she exited the crumbling ruins of one of Polis’ old buildings. Leaves and vines had started to grow from the cracks in the stone walls, as if the earth was reclaiming the land. In any other context, the scene before him would have stopped him still, just by its sheer beauty. Eight weeks ago, Bellamy wasn’t even sure Polis existed: a safe haven for some of history’s greatest thieves hundreds of years ago; a fabled city ruled by the commanders of twelve pirate clans where they pooled all their treasure and resources to be shared among them. What he’d seen so far was an incredible feat of architecture and engineering, advanced for its time, and most structures holding up fairly well given their age. It hadn’t been easy to find the island; it had been uninhabited for hundreds of years, and acquiring one of the last remaining maps with its location involved a heist of a black market auction in Rome, pretty much desecrating a graveyard in the Scottish mountains, and damn near destroying a small town in Madagascar. Echo pressed a boot to his chest, applying enough pressure to make him cough.

“Ah, okay, mango! Mango!” Bellamy spluttered.

Echo made a face. “What are you on about?”

“It’s my safe word,” He managed a smirk, earning a kick to his ribs. “Easy, you don’t want to kill me.”

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. All I have to do is buy some time.”

Bellamy groaned as she pressed her foot to his chest again, trying to summon the energy to stand. He needed to get out of there before her partner arrived, but his fight was dwindling. The girl was a machine, military trained and so good at hand-to-hand that when he’d knocked her gun away from her, she still handed his ass to him without even breaking a sweat. Shouldn’t be surprising that she was in charge of Azgeda, an armed militia that worked as guns for hire.

The sound of a gun cocking made Echo turn her head. “Back away from him, Echo.” The venom in her voice scared even Bellamy. The familiar girl walked closer to him, pointing Echo’s own discarded gun at her, as she raised her hands and stepped away from Bellamy.

Bellamy sighed in relief, wincing as he slowly rose to his feet. “I had it under control.”

The girl’s sleek black ponytail bounced as she laughed. “Sure you did, big brother.”

-

_Eight Weeks Ago_

_The ticking of the clock felt like it was getting louder and louder, and Bellamy was a hair away from throwing it across his classroom. Just as he dropped his pen in frustration, about to pack up the essays he was marking and go home, a text came through on his phone._

Clarke: remember Kane’s coming over tomorrow for dinner. love you x

_Seeing his wife’s name on the screen calmed him down as easily as if she was in the room with him, rubbing his back and kissing that spot behind his ear that always made him shiver. A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. Probably some student looking for extra credit. “It’s after hours, I’m going home. You should too. Make an appointment if you want to talk about your grades.” He was too tired to keep up his usual excitement about history; so if this kid thought he was a grumpy asshole he didn’t really care._

_“Actually, uh, I’m looking for my big brother.” A female voice replied as the doorknob twisted, slowly revealing the girl. “His name’s on the door.”_

_It couldn’t be._

_Bellamy searched every inch of her with his eyes – long, straight hair as black as the night sky, those unmistakable green eyes, the edge of her tattoo just visible curling up the right side of her neck while the rest was obscured by her leather jacket._

_It couldn’t be. But it was._

_“He’s about your height, a little bit leaner. Definitely not as much facial hair.” She chuckled nervously, trying to gauge his reaction._

_“O?” He felt like all the air had been knocked out of him. His little sister, his responsibility, the girl who died all those years ago, was standing in front of him, living, breathing._

_“It’s good to see you again, Bell.”_

_No one, not even Clarke, ever called him Bell. He hadn’t heard the nickname for fifteen years, and it triggered something in him, a brotherly instinct he hadn’t felt since that day. He didn’t have the words to describe the emotions running through him in that moment, but elation came close. He gathered her up in his arms, not daring to close his eyes in case it was a dream. As he drank in her smell, he made a note of how different she felt in his arms – taller, but thinner, muscles still there but her jawline more defined, her frame leaner. Older, but still recognisably and undeniably her. “How?” He released her. “I saw you get shot!”_

_“Yeah, you did.” She raised her shirt to show a nasty scar on her abdomen. “Looks worse than it is – most of the scarring’s from the surgery, not the bullet. Not sure how legit the doctors were back there.” Bellamy just stared in astonishment, the questions failing to form on his lips. Octavia answered him before he could ask. “Coastguard scooped me up after I heard Kane fly away. The water’s actually what saved me – the docs said saltwater lowers the risk of infection, and apparently it was so cold my arteries clamped up, so I didn’t lose as much blood…” She shook her head rapidly, ridding herself of her thoughts. “Anyway, I got patched up, then the police locked me up and I spent my life in a prison cell.”_

_Bellamy furrowed his brows. “No, I looked for you! I went back – searched hospital records, prisons – Jesus, I even went to the morgue when a body washed up on the-” he cut himself off, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t want to think about that. “I would’ve found you.”_

_Octavia shook her head. “A guard died, Bellamy. Didn’t matter to them that I didn’t kill him, they wanted someone to go down for it. They were more than happy to keep me off the books, lock me up and throw away the key.”_

_“Octavia, if I’d known…” He started, no longer able to form words._

_She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You would’ve gotten me out. I know.” When he began to sway, unsteady on his feet, she gripped him, holding him up. “Hey, hey, you still with me? Sit down, Bell.”_

_As she guided him to his desk chair, he murmured “I’m okay… I’m okay. It’s just a lot to take in.” Settling into the chair, his head rush eased and his thoughts cleared. “What happened?” He asked. “How’d you get out?”_

_She perched on the edge of his desk, giving him a small smile. “Slow down, I want to hear about you.” When he rubbed his temples, her gaze flickered to his left hand, and her eyes swam with emotion. A mix of shock, joy, and sadness. “You’re married?”_

_He let out a short laugh, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards as he thumbed his wedding ring. “Remember Kane used to tell us about the lost City of Light?”_

_“Yeah?” Her eyebrows furrowed, unsure what that had to do with anything._

_“He picked up the trail – found an old map and some coded puzzles. Thing is, as usual, we needed money. So I do a little research, and I call this journalist trying to make a name for herself. She had money to spare and something to prove, so I invited her to tag along and write a story about it. I was planning on screwing her over in the end, but… I met her, and she was this little blonde spitfire, the smartest person I’ve ever met, funnier than I care to admit, knock-the-wind-out-of-you stunning, and turned out she had just as much of a thirst for this stuff as I had.”_

_She chuckled. “Uh-oh. Sounds like trouble.”_

_“Oh, absolutely.” He let out a toothy grin. “Her name’s Clarke. She’s saved my life a few times over the years. But… I almost lost her. And there was a moment where I thought she was-” his throat closed up around the word. He cleared his throat. “We decided to get out of the business, start a real life together. We still have our memories, as well as a few souvenirs, and Kane still goes out there – you know what he’s like. But we’re happy. I can’t wait for you to meet her. Oh my god! You’ve gotta come to dinner tomorrow, I can tell her all about you!” A beat passed as Octavia stood and crossed her arms, leaning against the window. Under his breath, he continued, brows furrowed in thought. “Shit, I’ve got to tell her all about you.”_

_“Bellamy, I have to tell you something. About how I got out.” Octavia’s casual tone vanished, her words now betraying unease. He said nothing, allowing her to continue. She swallowed and closed her eyes, before turning her gaze to the night sky outside. “My cellmate, her name was Lorelai Tsing. Don’t know what she was in for, we never talked about that. Only what we’d do when we got out. Of course it was just a pipe dream for me, I knew I’d be in there forever, but she didn’t know that. She’d mostly talk about her boyfriend, but I waxed lyrical about Polis, and Lexa’s treasure. Told her the story behind it, and she got just as excited as I was. One day she’s pacing in the cell more than usual, and there’s some loud noises coming from the guard’s station. She asks me if I think I could find Polis, find the treasure, and I say that with the right crew, absolutely. Next thing I know some guy’s blowing the door off our cell and she’s telling me to follow her.” She paused, locking eyes with him. “Does the name Cage Wallace mean anything to you?”_

_“The drug lord?” Bellamy’s eyebrows knotted as he tried to work out how he fit into the story. He was from a huge organised crime family and had a particularly grisly reputation after stories spread from survivors of his favourite method of torture: drilling through to the bone and harvesting the marrow as a trophy. “Yeah, they call him The Extractor, right?”_

_“Turns out he’s her boyfriend. She told him all about the treasure, and he let me come along when he broke her out. Once we got safely out of the city, Cage told me I’ve got three months to find the treasure and give him a cut, or else I get a one-way ticket to his operating room in Mount Weather. Then he left me on the side of a dirt road in the middle of nowhere to fend for myself.” Octavia looked at Bellamy, checking his reaction. His face was blank, just processing everything she told him. “I know you’ve been out of this world for a long time, but… Bell, I’m in real trouble here. I need your help.”_

-

Present Day

“Give it up, Echo.” Octavia kept the pistol trained on the mercenary as Bellamy made his way to her side. “It’s two against one.”

A smirk formed on Echo’s lips as she looked at the space behind the Blake siblings. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Bellamy’s head whipped around to see three men with guns all pointed at them, blocking them off and forcing them back against the drop of the cliff, and at the sound of a struggle near Octavia he turned to see she had Echo in a headlock, her pistol pressed to her temple. “Stay back, Roan, or I swear to god I’ll kill her.”

“Roan, this girl’s on edge.” Echo warned, referring to the craze Bellamy saw in Octavia’s eyes. He knew she’d follow through with her threat. 

“Calm down, O, just everybody put their guns down, okay? Let’s talk about this.” Bellamy might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

Roan scoffed, taking a step forward. “Relax, Echo, the Blakes don’t kill anyone in cold blood, it’s not their style.”

Octavia barked out a laugh, pressing the butt of the gun harder against Echo’s head. “You want to test that theory? Not another step!”

“Octavia!” Bellamy scolded, inching closer to her.

“Oh, you mean like this?” Roan goaded her, taking his finger off the trigger and holding his hands up in mock surrender as he took another, larger step towards them.

Octavia let out a breath. “I warned you.” 

“No!” Bellamy lunged for her, pulling her arm upwards and pointing the gun to the sky as she pulled the trigger and Echo escaped from her grip. He tossed the gun to the ground, and Echo swooped it up like a hawk. Gun safely back in her possession, Echo whipped back around to face Octavia, slapping her hard enough in the face to knock her to the ground. “Easy!” Bellamy shouted, rushing to help her up. “You’ve already got us, there’s no need for that.”

Roan lowered his gun in surprise, though the men behind him still had their weapons raised at the siblings. _“Relax, Echo, the Blakes don’t kill in cold blood.” _Echo mimicked Roan through gritted teeth. _“It’s not their style.”_

He simply shrugged in response. “What can I say? I didn’t think she had it in her.”

Octavia paced angrily, and Bellamy whispered harshly at her to stay still and cool off before turning to face his ex-partner. “Look, Roan, you’re a businessman, let’s make a deal.”

He snarled. “What, you lead me to the treasure and in return I let you live?”

“That, and a small cut.” Bellamy bargained.

Roan snorted. “The _balls_ on this guy, unbelievable.”

Bellamy could see the group getting twitchy, and chose his words carefully, not wanting to hit any nerves. “Not much, just enough to buy Octavia her freedom, the rest is yours.”

“Her freedom?” Roan’s expression lost all anger, now filled with confusion. 

He nodded enthusiastically. “Bellamy, don’t…” Octavia sounded defeated, putting a hand on his arm. Bellamy batted it away, moving closer to Roan, speaking with his hands. 

“Yes, her freedom. The guy that broke her out, Cage Wallace, she owes him a lot of money. We take enough to pay off her debt, and then we leave. We’ll never get in your way again.” 

“What are you talking about? Cage Wallace died in a shootout in Mount Weather, like, six months ago. I’m the one that got Octavia out.” Roan replied, watching as Octavia winced at his words and Bellamy’s face fell, looking at his sister, waiting for her to refute him but getting nothing back. “I heard she was in prison, and I needed help making sense of some of Lexa’s old letters. There was no breakout, I bribed the warden and she walked right out the front door. She’s been helping me for the last two years.” Roan started to put the pieces together as Bellamy’s features settled into shock. “Oh my god,” Roan laughed in disbelief, eyes flitting between the siblings. “What did she tell you?”

While Roan was now watching in amusement, it seemed all his anger had transferred to Bellamy. “Octavia?”

She flinched at his tone, and started pleading with him to understand. “Bellamy, Lexa’s treasure was always ours, just the two of us, and you were out of the game, so I-”

“No, I left my life for you!” He cut her off, yelling. “I lied to Clarke for you!”

Echo interrupted. “As thrilling as this family drama is, we’re burning daylight here.” Turning to Roan, she muttered just loud enough for the Blakes to hear. “One way or another, end it, or I will.”

That got Bellamy’s attention. “Wait, you still need us!” He put his hands out towards Roan, as if shielding himself from the gun now pointed at him. “We know where the treasure is. You won’t find it without us." 

Roan exhaled, lowering his weapon, his tone casual. “You’re right. Well, you’re half right.” His voice hardened as he raised his gun to Bellamy. “I just need Octavia.”

“No!” She shouted, pushing herself in front of Bellamy as Roan squeezed the trigger. The force of the shot sent her tumbling into Bellamy’s chest and he stumbled, but before he could correct his balance, the momentum sent him falling backwards off the cliff. The last thing he remembered was Octavia screaming his name, and then everything went black.

-

_Three Days Ago_

_The cool evening breeze flowed through his hair as he held on tight to the back of Octavia’s motorbike, keeping himself steady as she turned into their motel parking lot. Even after the sun dropped over the horizon in this tropical climate, the air stayed thick with humidity, and Bellamy couldn’t tell if the faint buzz he heard was from mosquitoes or the flickering neon signs overhead. Kane was leaning against his rover, parked a few spaces closer to their room, waiting for the two of them to approach. With a quick check of their surroundings to make sure they hadn’t been followed, Bellamy pulled out his journal and moved towards Kane. The pages were bursting with notes – scraps of yellowed letters tucked into the pages, old handwritten maps folded away for safekeeping – and the pages of the journal themselves were filled with tales of what they’d found: clipped notes of potentially useful things Bellamy thought of, and hastily drawn depictions of artefacts they found along the way. He faltered a little when he looked at the drawings; Clarke was always the artistic one, and it was a stark reminder of the lie he told her to explain away his trip. He knew some day he’d have to tell her the truth before it all came crashing down around him, starting with why he never told her about Octavia. Before he could dwell too much on that, Kane spoke to the two of them._

_“Glad to see you made it out alive.”_

_“We’re better than alive,” Octavia explained, a smile budding on her face as she lit a celebratory cigarette. “We found Polis.”_

_Bellamy hadn’t taken his eyes off the journal, scribbling furiously. If he had, he might have scolded Octavia for smoking, a habit she had apparently picked up behind bars. “There’s a cipher I’m figuring out, it’ll be the key to reading the map. There’s a passphrase in Trigedasleng – ‘Omon gon oson’. If I can translate it, I can get the coordinates to Polis.”_

_“Polis? I thought that was just a fairy tale, a story Lexa made up to distract from her treasure’s hiding place.” Kane asked, politely shaking his head when Octavia offered him a cigarette. Instead, she filled him in on what he’d missed the day they’d spent apart._

_“Turns out she founded the colony after all, and invited leaders of the twelve most renowned pirate clans to join her there. They pooled everything – property, resources-”_

_“Money?” Kane finished._

_Octavia nodded. “And they kept it all in one common treasury building.”_

_“I got it!” Bellamy exclaimed, and the others looked to him expectantly. “‘Omon gon oson’, it means ‘all of me for all of us’. Sounds appropriate for a colony that shares all its treasure, right? Come on, let’s get inside and check the coordinates against the map.” Kane tossed him the key to their room, and the trio beamed from ear to ear, Octavia stamping out her butt as Bellamy fiddled with the lock. _

_“Does Roan have a copy of this?” Kane asked._

_“Yes, but by the time Roan figures it out, we’ll be well on our way to Polis.” Bellamy twisted the doorknob and entered the room, looking backwards at Kane as he walked in. “I’m telling you, that treasure is as good as ours… shit.” He trailed off as he turned his head to look inside the room, finding that they weren’t alone._

_He froze on the spot, staring at the person in front of him, who had their back turned, looking through all the documents they’d found so far lying scattered all over the desk. “How’s the Tondc field trip going, Bellamy?” she turned to face him, hurt written all over her expression. “Seems like you’re a little off course.”_

_“Clarke, I…”_

_“There was a hurricane in Tondc; I couldn’t get a hold of you so I panicked. I called the history department and talked to Miller, and he didn’t know anything about it.”_

_“This isn’t what it looks like.” Bellamy started._

_“Really.” Clarke stepped away from the desk, taking a step closer to Bellamy. “Because it looks like you’re looking for Lexa’s lost treasure.” She eyed the handgun on one of the beds. “And judging by the Azgeda militia running around town I’d say you’re not the only ones.”_

_Bellamy looked back at Octavia and Kane for support but got nothing. They knew better than to pick sides in a fight between a married couple. “Okay, you’re not totally off base, but I can explain. It’s going to sound crazy.”_

_“Try me.” Her voice sounded calm, and the way she put her hands on her hips projected confidence, but Bellamy knew her well enough to know that it was a front to hide just how wounded she was._

_This wasn’t going to be good. Deciding to rip off the band aid and get it over with, Bellamy gestured to Octavia. “This is Octavia. Octavia Blake. My little sister.”_

_“Hi,” Octavia mumbled a feeble greeting, offering a light wave of her hand._

_Clarke took a step back, flinching as if he’d hit her. She looked to Kane, silently asking if he knew anything about this, begging him to tell her it wasn’t true. Kane turned his hands so his palms faced upwards, as if to shrug. “I’m sorry, kid.”_

_Clarke exhaled a shaky breath, backing away from Bellamy. He stepped forwards. “I thought she died fifteen years ago in Shadow Valley, but-”_

_“You need to…” She pointed a finger at Bellamy in warning, stumbling backwards and bumping into the desk, gripping it for support._

_“I was wrong. I left her behind, she got locked up, and now she needs my help. Someone broke her out of prison – someone dangerous – and the only way to pay off the debt is to find Lexa’s treasure.” Clarke refused to make eye contact with him, her lips pressed into a thin line, nodding her head rhythmically as he spoke. Bellamy got the sense that it had more to do with keeping herself calm than agreeing with anything he said. “But we found it, we know where to go, and then we can go home.”_

_“Okay, stop.” Clarke’s voice came out firmly, slicing a hand through the air as she spoke. “I can’t deal with this right now.” She pushed past him, heading for the door._

_“Clarke, wait!” He called after her._

_“I don’t understand you, Bellamy.” She spun on her heels._

_He pleaded with her. “I wanted to tell you!”_

_“Enough!”_

_“I had to protect you! These people, they’re dangerous!” He reached for her arm._

_She jerked her arm away as if it burned. “Oh, that is bullshit, Bellamy.”_

_“How would I even have begun to explain this to you?”_

_“You could’ve just said it!”_

_Bellamy raked a hand through his hair. “I knew you would react like this.”_

_Clarke looked as if she’d been slapped. “How would you react?” Her tone switched from exasperated to angry, and Bellamy knew he’d said the wrong thing. “You’ve been lying to me, for _ _weeks.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “If something had happened to you, I wouldn’t even know about it! You could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere and I would never have found your body.” Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. “And now you have a sister.” She took a moment to steady her breathing, taking in the guilt on Bellamy’s face. “Who are you?” She shook her head. Bellamy had never seen her look not just angry, but disappointed. Betrayed. “You told me you were done with this life. You promised that we would never go back to this.”_

_“Clarke, this is different. The only reason I’m here is to save Octavia. I don’t even care about the treasure!” Bellamy gestured with his hands as he spoke, as if his grand motions would convey how strongly he felt about this._

_Clarke scoffed lightly. “The sound of your voice when you came in here, the smile on your face…” She played with her wedding ring, twisting it lightly between her fingers. “You’re not just lying to me. You’re lying to yourself.”_

_Bellamy was lost for words. When she saw he had nothing left to say to her, her face contorted into a pained expression he had only seen a handful of times; the face she made before she cried, but barely had the expression registered before she closed her eyes and forced a blanket of calm across her face. Without looking back, she left the room, letting the door slam shut behind her._

_After a moment of silence that chewed away at Bellamy, he found his resolve, heading back to the desk. “Bellamy, what are you doing?” Kane protested. “Go after her!”_

_“Bellamy, I don’t know what to say.” Octavia interjected._

_“Just both of you, quiet!” He snapped, slamming his hands on the desk. He took a breath, calming himself down. “We’re not stopping until we pay off Octavia’s debt.”_

_“There has to be another way…” Kane paced, wracking his brain. “We… we get her a new identity, new papers, set her up someplace safe. I’ve got contacts-”_

_“No, she’s been locked up half her life, I’m not sending her underground!” Bellamy argued. “And don’t even think about suggesting taking her to Polis yourself, you’ll get both of you killed. You don’t know how to handle Roan – or Echo and her army.”_

_Kane hid his wince at the insult. “I’m just trying to help.”_

_“You know what you can do to help, Marcus? Go keep an eye her.” He pointed to the door Clarke stormed out of moments ago, and Kane’s face turned to stone. Without a word, he turned his back on Bellamy and set off after Clarke._

-

“And then when Mom died, it was just the two of us. I didn’t want O to end up in an orphanage, so we ran away from home, fended for ourselves. It was hard, especially at first, and we got good at pickpocketing. That was how it started; just two kids running game on the street. Eventually we conned Kane out of his wallet, and he was impressed – he sort of took us in, mentored us. He taught us everything we know about stealing – _ow!_” Bellamy flinched at the antiseptic. 

“Sorry. Hold still.” Clarke replied meekly. She’d heard the gunshots ring out from down below the waterfall, and raced to drag Bellamy out of the plunge pool before the current of the river washed him away, but not before he hit his head on a rock a few feet downstream, knocking him out cold for a minute. “You’re lucky the water was deep, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed, thinking about the fall. About Octavia. He shook it off, his thoughts refocusing on telling Clarke the full story of his childhood, and everything about his sister. He owed Clarke that much. They’d spent so long on the riverbank that the sun had almost completely dried his clothes, but Bellamy still had more story to tell. “Anyway, there was a steep learning curve. Spent a lot of time in jail before we got the hang of it, and soon enough we moved on from petty theft to exploring, and to treasure hunting. It made sense, Octavia and I always loved history, and Kane has plenty of contacts that can source information for us. The job fifteen years ago – the last job I did with her – the information led us to a prison in Shadow Valley. We knew there was an artefact there we would need to find Lexa’s treasure, but the only way to get to it was if you were an inmate, so Roan and I went in. One of Lexa’s old associates got locked up in that prison. The cell he was in crumbled down years ago, but we managed to bribe a guard and I climbed my way up to the ruins. I got the artefact, and during the breakout… well. Things didn’t exactly go to plan, and she got caught in the crossfire. After that, after I thought I lost her, it was just…” he winced again, not from the sting of the antiseptic but rather the sting of his own memories.

“It was too painful to bring her up again.” Clarke finished his sentence when it became apparent he couldn’t. 

Bellamy nodded, and swallowed awkwardly in a half-hearted attempt to dislodge the lump in his throat. “And now you know everything. The whole story.” Clarke leaned back, resting on the downed log as she took a deep breath, processing everything he had told her. He’d put her through a lot these past few weeks, and he almost couldn’t believe she was here, that she hadn’t abandoned him after he betrayed her so deeply. “I wish I knew what you were thinking.” 

A ghost of a smile formed on her face. “I’m thinking you’ve got a knack for finding trouble.”

Bellamy tested the waters with a light joke. “Trouble’s my middle name.”

“I believe you’ve said the same thing about ‘careful’ and ‘danger’.” Clarke returned his smile, nudging him with her foot.

“Yep, that’s me. Bellamy Careful Danger Trouble Blake.” He could tell Clarke was trying to resist a laugh, but it broke through the surface anyway, and he shared it with her. A rare moment of happiness, something that had seemed impossible to him three days ago. When the silence returned, it brought an air of seriousness with it, as though the tension between them was resurfacing. “Thank you. For saving me.” Bellamy’s voice softened, dropping to barely above a whisper.

Clarke’s face fell, and she played with her hands, something she did when she was wrestling with something. “I almost didn’t this time.”

Bellamy knew if he said anything in that moment, his voice would have broken. Instead, he hung his head down, breaking eye contact. He hated to see the look of hurt in her eyes, especially when he knew he was the one who put it there. When enough time had passed for the ache in his chest to subside, he cleared his throat. “How’d you find me?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.” Clarke replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. At least that was easier for Bellamy to stomach than pain. “Follow the sounds of shouting and gunfire.”

“But how did you get here?” Clarke had only been in the motel room for a few minutes, and Bellamy hadn’t cracked the code for the map by that point. There was no way she would have known which island to get to, never mind which specific location.

Before she could respond, the faint, familiar sound of an old plane reached his ears. Of course – Kane. Right on cue, static sounded from the radio clipped on to the belt around Clarke’s trousers and his voice came through. “How’s it going on the ground?”

She grabbed the radio, responding to the call. “He’s a little banged up, but that’s par for the course. Now we just need to rescue the other Blake.”

“What do you mean?” Kane’s voice came through over the background noise of the propellers. “What have I missed?”

Clarke paused, and though she didn’t say anything, the subtext of the look she threw Bellamy was clear: _clean up your mess._ She extended her arm to him, handing him the radio.

“Hey, Kane. Thanks for coming back.” 

“Wouldn’t miss it. What happened to Octavia?”

“Roan’s got her. He’s with Echo and the rest of Azgeda, they’re headed to the north side of the island. Think you could find a safe spot to land and meet us there? Once we get her out we’re going to need a speedy exit.” He explained, taking a few steps as he spoke to get the feeling back in his legs. 

“Roger that. But wait, what about the treasure? What about Cage Wallace?”

Bellamy huffed. “We don’t need the treasure. Cage Wallace, the breakout, the debt, it’s all bullshit. Octavia made it all up so I’d help her.”

Stunned silence followed. “What?”

“I know. I’m as pissed as you are, but she’s family. I’ll fill you in on the details later, right now we just need to get out of here alive.”

A moment passed while the news sank in, but sure enough, he responded. “Okay, just… be careful down there.”

Bellamy chuckled. “You know me,” he glanced at Clarke. “Careful’s my middle name.” 

-

Clarke had the foresight to steal an Azgeda Rover and hide it from view underneath some loose palm leaves, meaning they had a chance to catch up to Roan and Echo. Unfortunately, the most direct route to Lexa’s old mansion was easily accessed from higher ground, and that combined with the fall had set them back a few hours. While Bellamy gave directions, Clarke took the wheel and the Rover made quick work of the terrain. “Octavia and I already checked the treasury building out before Roan caught up to us; it was empty, torn apart, and the paintings of the clan leaders had been vandalised.” Bellamy explained over the rumble of the engine. “From what we can tell, they betrayed the citizens of Polis and moved the treasure to keep it for themselves. The only place I can think of to find out where it might be now is–”

“Lexa’s place.” Clarke finished his thought. “She was the one who set this all up, it makes sense that she’d be at the centre of the whole thing.” A moment passed as they drove by one of the buildings, only partly crumbled away, as if reinforced by the overgrowth of plants creeping up its walls. “God, this place is something else. How come no one’s ever searched around here before?”

“Whole island is technically off limits – local government sent people out here to search it, but after they ran into some less-than-friendly booby traps, they sealed it off. No one’s been here for decades.” Bellamy answered, casting his mind back to the old news reports he had dug up on the island. He’d have to be vigilant to make sure he and Clarke stayed safe.

Scanning the treeline and the hills around him, he glanced back down at the piece of paper in his hands, trying to relate the scenery to their position on the map. So deep in concentration, it took Clarke hitting him on his arm to focus on her urgent whisper as she slowed the Rover down to a stop, silencing the low rumble of the engine. “Hey, I said, _do you hear that?_”

Letting the map fall to his lap, he took account of the sounds of the island. Faint water flowing from a nearby river, birds chirping, a light breeze flowing through the leaves… the only thing that sounded out of place was the Rover’s engine hum. _Engine hum. They weren’t alone._ His eyes shot up to the ridge above them, and sure enough, a line of Azgeda Rovers filled with armed soldiers drove by overhead. They stilled their breath, hoping the foliage above them provided enough cover for them to go unnoticed, though Bellamy slowly and carefully reached for his pistol, flinching at the pop of the button on the leather holster as he wrapped his hand around the grip. One Rover drove a little too close to the edge as the ridge curved away, causing some loose rocks to cascade down the side of the hill towards them. They both knew that if the rocks hit the metal of the car, it risked giving them away, and Clarke visibly stiffened in her seat as they fell. Eyes following every last piece of rock, they watched as one bounced off a branch sticking out of the face of the ridge, sending it tumbling right to the centre of the Rover’s hood with a bang. Whipping out his gun and setting his sights on the Rovers up above, Bellamy watched as they kept moving on their path, seemingly unfazed by what just happened. Not feeling able to lower his guard just yet, he kept his aim fixed on them until they dropped out of his line of sight.

“They didn’t hear it.” She exhaled, relaxing back into her seat as she closed her eyes and ran her hands through her hair.

“We got lucky.” He corrected, holstering his weapon. “We need to stay out of sight.” They were hugely outgunned, even with Clarke’s pistol he knew she had on a thigh holster, and had it come down to a firefight he knew the two of them would be dead in the water against that many mercenaries. When the two of them caught their breath, Clarke started up the Rover again, continuing through towards their destination. Eventually, monuments started to appear in the landscape; statues and buildings used as landmarks for directions on the old hand-drawn map tucked into Bellamy’s journal. “We should ditch the car. Draws too much attention, and we’re about to get a lot more exposed once we hit the town centre. There’s a shallow cave in the gap in the cliff face up ahead, we can hide it there.” He pointed to an ivy-covered opening, barely visible to the untrained eye, and Clarke turned to follow his directions.

Taking a moment to breathe in the relative safety of the cave, they grabbed their belongings from the Rover in silence, and as Bellamy’s mind drifted back to the argument they had at the motel, something gnawed at him. “I wasn’t trying to protect you.” 

“What?” Clarke looked up at him, confused.

“The reason I didn’t tell you about any of this – it’s not because I was trying to protect you. It’s just… I promised I would give up this life.”

She crossed her arms casually. “We both made that promise.”

“But I broke it. The truth is, I didn’t tell you because I was afraid. I was afraid that breaking that promise would mean losing you.” Clarke nodded slowly, weighing his admission in her head. “I guess I was protecting myself.”

Clarke rubbed her arms, a self-soothing gesture she maintained since childhood. “We should keep moving. Got a lot of ground to cover.” She started heading back outside, leaving Bellamy to follow after her.

He cleared his throat, masking the hurt. Obviously, he still had a long way to go before Clarke forgave him. They spent the rest of the journey in silence, on high alert for any traps or Azgeda soldiers nearby, but they were walking on what would have been a busy street in town back at the height of Polis’ glory, and he felt safe enough knowing that Lexa and her partners in crime wouldn’t set traps here. Instead, they took the precaution of sticking to the edges of buildings and ducking into shadows whenever possible, weaving through alleys and side streets to avoid being spotted from above. Every so often, they stumbled across a skeleton – colonists, Bellamy assumed, and he wondered if they had driven past any already, just moving too quickly to have seen. The closer they got to the heart of Polis, there seemed to be more and more of them, sometimes stacked on top of each other, and it started to seem less like natural causes as he found weapons scattered on the ground and swords stuck between ribs. If it bothered Clarke, she didn’t say anything, so he buried the uneasy feeling in his gut, continuing onwards. Right now they had bigger problems than whatever ghosts were in Polis’ past. Reaching the richest district of Polis, he pointed to the grandest building in what appeared to be a sort of gated community in the town centre, where the clan leaders made their homes. “That must be Lexa’s.” It matched with the location of Lexa’s home on the map in his journal, marked with the sigil of her clan.

Clarke’s eyes darted around their surroundings, less to take in the beauty and grandeur of it all, and more to scan the environment for vantage points, and listening for any signs that they weren’t alone. “So, now we just sneak around the abandoned island, hoping to avoid setting off booby traps _and_ dodging heavily armed Azgeda mercenaries, while finding the treasure, pulling off a rescue mission and flying away before anyone has a chance to put a bullet in us.”

Bellamy met her eyes. “What could possibly go wrong?”

The corner of Clarke’s lip twitched; a half smile for a half joke. Taking the binoculars out from her backpack, she zeroed in on Lexa’s mansion, examining the area around it. “Nice place, if you don’t mind some structural problems and water damage.” 

“Certainly some drainage issues.” He quipped, following her eyeline to the estate. It looked like the area had once been filled with water. Though most of it seemed to have been used up by the countless plants and trees blooming up around them, a small river weaved its way between the buildings.

“A real fixer-upper opportunity.” She continued, still looking through the binoculars. He studied her as she worked, her words reminding him of the time they spent together after they got out of the business, got back to their regular lives, and started looking for houses. Bellamy never thought he’d be the type to get married or own a real house, he thought he’d be more like Kane, who never stayed in one place for too long, always on the move, looking for new adventures. The one thing he didn’t count on was meeting Clarke Griffin. She tipped his world on its axis, this girl who was a duality of an ambitious journalist with a well-paying job while melding into his world of danger and uncertainty with unusual ease. Even now, after all these years, he forgot how good she was at this. “Looks like someone blew the dam over there, tried to flood the houses. Maybe the colonists didn’t take too kindly to their leaders stealing their treasure.” Clarke’s forehead creased the way it did when she was trying to see something more clearly, something Bellamy had noticed her do over the years as she flipped through the pages of the newspapers she insisted on buying, as if she could single-handedly save print journalism. “Oh my god. Bellamy, look at the front steps.” 

Keeping her eyes fixed on whatever she saw, she moved the binoculars towards him. He put them up to his face and felt his heart jump to his throat. “Octavia.” She was being prodded in the back by a rifle, her hands in the air and a bandage wrapped around her shoulder, as Roan, Echo and a few Azgeda soldiers ushered her inside Lexa’s house. 

“At least we know she’s alive.” Clarke’s voice softened. 

“For now.” He handed them back to her. “Let’s go get her.” 

-

Roan and his crew had a decent head start, and especially after seeing the armed soldiers, Bellamy was careful to keep his distance until he had an idea of what he was dealing with in Lexa’s mansion. Entering through a broken window on the side of the building, they fell back into their old routine, working wordlessly with each other as if their minds were connected, instinctively knowing when to stop, switch places, and when to take a shortcut. They reached a grand set of double doors within the mansion, following the damp muddy footsteps left behind by the soldiers’ boots, and for the first time they allowed themselves to take in the grandeur of what they were seeing. Wood, marble and gold dominated their surroundings, with intricate carvings decorated around the doorframes. A little over the top for Bellamy’s taste, but gold was a status symbol back in those times, and Lexa would have made sure her living quarters were dripping with it. When they reached a set of closed double doors, Bellamy moved for the door handle on the right as Clarke reached for the left, and with a quick nod, they opened the doors in sync.

“Holy shit.” Clarke stepped forwards into the room while Bellamy hung back, taking in the whole scene. A dining room, long enough to fit half their house, with thick but tattered red curtains on the far side of the wall blocking the aged windows through which the sun shone. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and intricate paintings lined the walls. The most striking thing about the room, however, was the dining table itself. Twelve seats at the table, two empty, and ten long-dead bodies slumped in the chairs, rags of tattered cloth still hanging to some skeletons. Clarke’s mother was a doctor who brought home horror stories of death and gore, so it was no surprise Clarke didn’t hesitate to inspect them straight away. 

“Looks like we found the party.” Bellamy masked his own trepidation with an attempt at humour.

“I think we’re a little late.” She brushed the dust off of something as Bellamy walked the perimeter of the table. “Hey, check it out.” Holding it up to Bellamy, he noticed it was the sigil of one of the clan leaders. His eyes flitted back down to the table, and he noticed there was one at every seat, like a place card you might find at a wedding dinner.

“Oh my god. It’s them. Clarke, these are the pirate captains that founded Polis. What the hell happened here?”

Clarke exhaled, her gaze trailing down the arm of one of the skeletons, following it to the hand still clasping a golden, jewel-studded cup. “Well I’m no forensics expert, but I would say…” She prised it from his hand. “Bad drinks?” As she knocked the skeleton, a piece of paper dislodged from the remnants of his clothes, sending it falling to the ground. She picked it up and read aloud. “Captain Anya and I would like to invite you to my manor tomorrow at sundown. The time has come to abandon our animosities and reunite under the banner of liberty, in the name of Polis. Signed, Commander Lexa.”

Bellamy took that in, the wheels spinning in his head as he focused on the two empty chairs – one at the head of the table, and the other to its right. He walked over to them, looking for the sigils to confirm his theory. “Huh, look at that. Lexa and Anya. Looks like our hosts didn’t stick around to clean up their mess.” 

“Well that wasn’t very gracious of them.”

The pieces fell together in his head. “Okay, these guys would have sparked a full-scale revolt when they claimed the treasure for themselves.” He gestured generally to the table. “Assuming they took care of the rebels – maybe the skeletons we saw on the way here, they would have had to deal with each other. And I’m guessing things got pretty heated. So, Lexa and Anya invite them up here to… uh, what was it?” he pointed to the note in her hands. 

“Abandon their animosities.”

“Abandon their animosities. Lexa makes a grand toast,” He raised one of the cups up high. “And they all take a swig… except these two. Just like that, all the treasure in Polis becomes the sole possession of two women.”

She stepped back, taking it all in as she let out a single humourless laugh. “When a thief kisses you, count your teeth.”

“What?”

“It’s an old proverb, Yiddish, I think. If you know someone’s a thief, don’t be surprised when they betray your trust.”

He let out a deep breath, leaning on the table for support as a strange smile crossed his face. “These are some of history’s greatest pirates, and they all perished in an instant, right at this very table.” As much as he hated to admit it, he missed this. Getting sucked into the history of a place, figuring out lost mysteries and discovering new truths excited him, and he felt feelings bubbling through the surface that he hadn’t felt in years. Instinctively wanting to share this moment with her, he turned to face Clarke, hoping she matched the animated grin on his face. Instead, he found her looking at him with an emotion he didn’t recognise. A smile, yes, but not a happy one. To him, it looked a little sad. Wistful. But her eyes… those damn eyes that could pierce right through his soul, they spoke volumes. A trace of pain swam through them, and yet the way she was looking at him… she still loved him. After everything he’d put her through, she loved him all the same.

“It’s incredible.” She said, though he wasn’t sure she was talking about the history. 

His own smile faltered, and he sighed, hanging his head down. “I’m sorry, I…” he was going to apologise for going on a tangent about history like he always did, but as the words left his lips he realised that wasn’t what he wanted to apologise for. It dawned on him that the proverb she quoted might not just apply to the dead pirates in front of them, and the idea that that’s what he did to her stung more than he would have thought. Meeting her eyes, this time with more resolve, he spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

A tight lipped but sincere smile. “It’s okay.”

Despite everything that had happened over the last few weeks, she forgave him. She loved him. And god, he loved her too. He loved his sister of course, but he hated what Octavia’s return had caused him to become; the type of man who lies to his wife, his best friend, his person. In that moment, he promised to himself that he would do better. That started with getting everyone out of this damned island safely. By now, Kane had probably found a good spot to land the plane, and all that remained was getting Octavia back.

As if she read his mind, Clarke spoke. “Come on, we can’t be too far behind them. Keep up.” And with that, she left the room, leading the way forward. Bellamy would follow that woman anywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

“Word of the day – ‘ostentatious’.” Bellamy commented as they made their way through more grand corridors and anterooms.

Clarke’s mind was elsewhere. “Why didn’t Lexa kill Anya? Was she her right-hand woman?”

“Something like that. More to the point – where are all of the Azgeda guys?” They had come to a foyer of sorts, with a grand staircase and a sweeping view of two floors thanks to a partial collapse of the ceiling above them, sunlight and plants leaking in through the cracks. The only signs that anyone else had been here were the muddy footprints they were following and the odd bit of trash – a food wrapper or cigarette butt – that they had carelessly dropped behind them.

Clarke paused, as if she had only just noticed their absence, studying the scene in front of them. “Yeah, I would’ve expected we’d run into them by now. The only reason I can think of for them disappearing is if-”

“They found something worth hiding from us.” Bellamy finished her thought. Their eyes trailed along the path of the footprints, which reached another set of gaudy double doors. Same drill as last time, they pushed in unison, only to find it wouldn’t budge. “They barricaded it.”

“And they’d only do that if they were on to something.” They shared a meaningful look. “Let’s see what it is they don’t want us to find. On three. One, two, _three!_”

The doors gave a little, but whatever was in the way wasn’t moving in a hurry. “Again.” Bellamy counted them down, and their attempt widened the gap between the doors once more, but only on the third try did they go crashing through the entryway, stumbling from the momentum, and sending Bellamy crash landing into the lap of a skeleton reclining on a chaise lounge. “Ah, gross.” He muttered. “Hey buddy, what’ve you got there?” As he dusted himself off, he noticed something in the skeleton’s hand. He scanned it briefly before handing it over to Clarke. “It’s a letter. Signed by Lexa.”

Pouring over the words, Clarke read aloud. “My loyal subjects. As the sun sets in our glorious paradise, we must endeavour to preserve its riches. The traitorous Anya knows our secrets so we must act quickly. Move my treasure through the passage to my ship.”

“Anya and Lexa turned on each other.” Bellamy surmised as they continued through the corridor to the door across the hall.

“Like I said, count your teeth.”

Bellamy nodded. “We need to find that passage.” Clarke went ahead, taking the liberty of opening up the next set of doors herself. It revealed a large, circular room that Bellamy guessed would have been Lexa’s office back in the day. An ornately carved, dark wooden desk in the centre of the room faced out towards the bay windows, providing what would have been a spectacular view of Polis. Now, though, it showed ruins and overgrown shrubs. The floor was decorated too, the space under the desk marked as if it was the centre of a compass, with spokes getting longer and wider dividing into sections like wedges on a clockface as they stretched further towards the edges of the room. As Clarke explored the office, the glint of the sunlight catching on something on the floor drew Bellamy’s eye, and he got on one knee to inspect it. “It’s Octavia’s lighter.” He recognised the design; a square, silver lighter with the symbol of Hermes’ staff on it. The Greek myths were what got them interested in history in the first place, their mother would read them to them before bed, and Hermes was the god of thieves, commerce and trickery.

“She dropped it?”

“On purpose.” He stood up, examining their surroundings with new significance. “See how the footprints don’t leave this room? There’s something here she wanted us to find.”

“There has to be another way out of here. Maybe the passage Lexa wrote about.” Clarke started rifling through the desk drawers, looking for a switch or a button somewhere.

Meanwhile, Bellamy walked over to the shelves, pulling books off at random as if to trigger a secret door. “There’s got to be a… a lever somewhere or something. Seems like we’re always pulling levers.” 

“Huh.” Clarke muttered, her forehead crinkling as she looked at the globe on the desk.

“Got something?” Bellamy turned to look at her.

“Maybe. If I…” She trailed off as she touched the globe, when the floor seemed to shake and a loud rumble combined with what sounded like metal cogs turning emanated from below them. The spokes from the design on the floor were beginning to drop and separate into steps, creating a spiral staircase that descended from their position in the centre of the room.

“Whoa.” Bellamy rushed to the edge of the steps, peering down into the darkness below. “How’d you figure that out?” 

“I didn’t – they figured it out for us.” She pointed to the globe. “There’s a bloody fingerprint right here where Polis should be, so I just… pushed it.”

“Nicely done.” He began his descent on the spiral staircase, each step taking him deeper and darker, until he had to flick on the torch light attached to a strap of his backpack.

The sounds of light footfall behind him told him Clarke was close on his tail. “So the letter said Lexa was moving the treasure to her ship. Do you think the treasure’s still on the island?”

“I think, uh…” Bellamy sighed, pausing before he answered honestly. “I think it doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice echoed as the ground levelled, revealing a corridor lined with stones on all sides, stretching so far that their line of sight quickly turned to black. A shiver ran through him at the stark difference in temperature compared to the jungle above them. Soft drops of water trickling through the cracks above them created puddles at their feet, and what looked like dead roots of plants stretched down from the ceiling. 

As he took it all in, scanning everything with his torch, Clarke caught up to him, standing by his side. “Well, looks like Lexa built herself a panic cave. Wonder where it goes.”

“Only one way to find out.” With a quick side glance to Clarke, who nodded her agreement, they continued on their way as she took her own torch out of her pack.

Her stream of light explored the walls and ceiling as they walked, examining their surroundings, and noting the evenly spaced wrought iron torch holders on the walls, that would have been used to light the passage back in Lexa’s time. “This place is hundreds of years old. And it doesn’t look very stable.” Right on cue, a rumble from up ahead caused the ground to shake, and loose pebbles and dirt fell from the ceiling. They stood still, bracing themselves for a longer shockwave, but after a few seconds it returned to normal. “That wasn’t an earthquake. What the hell was that?”

“Probably Echo’s men – any excuse to use dynamite.”

Clarke’s face scrunched up in disbelief. “They’d have to be pretty dumb to use it around here.” 

“Yeah,” Bellamy said matter-of-factly. “They’re pretty dumb.” That earned a soft chuckle from Clarke, and before they made it even ten steps further, Bellamy pulled her back, stopping her from moving forwards. “Whoa, whoa, wait a sec.” His eyes danced around the open space in front of them. The corridor had opened up into a much wider area, and the terrain was about to change from stone and dirt to wood. Before them was what might have looked like part of a chess board from above: a square made up of a six by six set of separate, equally sized squares of wood. Some, however, were missing, exposing what lay beneath them – a drop that would have been deadly enough without the spikes sticking up from the ground, so elegantly demonstrated by a skeleton of a man skewered by the trap. The missing planks also allowed a look at where a handful of the support beams where (though they were few and far between), and it also showed a curious red package secured to the bottom of some of the squares. On further inspection as he squatted down, squinting as he looked at them, Bellamy realised what it was. Dynamite. 

“One of Lexa’s traps?” Clarke was putting the pieces together just as fast as Bellamy.

He stood up straight and gave her a grim look. “If we stand on the wrong plank of wood, we either fall to our deaths or get blown to bits.”

Her brows furrowed the way they did when she was deep in thought. “Lexa sent her people down here on her behalf to load up her treasure, which means all of them must have known the safe path.” She shook her head like something wasn’t adding up. “She wouldn’t have just _told_ them how to make it past; people are forgetful. Stubborn. One person remembers it wrong, insists it’s the right way, and that risks the loss of her men _and _her treasure. She would have written it down.”

“Then why didn’t we find anything about… _oh_.” Bellamy answered his own question before he could ask it. “Because Roan found it first.”

Clarke’s eyes widened as she put it together. “Which means they already made it through, which means…” She strode past him, torch illuminating the ground. Her satisfied laugh echoed through the space. “They’ve already shown us the way. Footprints.”

“Thank god this place is muddy. Ladies first?” He raised an eyebrow at Clarke, who stared daggers at him. “Kidding.” He held his hands up in surrender, before steeling himself to take the first step in the trail in front of them. To her credit, Clarke was so close behind him they were practically attached at the hip, though he could tell she was getting anxious as the wood complained beneath their feet. 

“Wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t creak as much.”

“Just… don’t go where the footsteps aren’t.”

She let out a nervous chuckle at his jumbled phrase. “What?” 

“A little preoccupied with trying not to blow up.” He explained as Clarke let out a gasp. She had stumbled, rolled her ankle, and was losing her balance fast. Reflexively, she dropped her torch, which landed hard on the wood panel to her left, and broke it. Bellamy grabbed Clarke, stopping her from following the torch down to the spikes below, and she clutched his side in a death grip. Listening to the thud of the torch hitting the ground below, they waited a few beats in silence until their hearts stopped beating though their chests. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He wondered if he was saying that more to comfort Clarke or himself.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself that was true. “Let’s keep moving.”

He took the last few steps, finally reaching ground that wouldn’t fall away or explode beneath him. “And… unclench.” He muttered as he and Clarke reached the other side safely. “Clarke, look. Footprints stop here.” a few feet ahead of them was a tunnel, which was filled by large rocks, blocking their path.

“They must have made it through and it collapsed behind them.”

“Or they didn’t want anyone following them and blew up the path. Either way, we need to find another way round.” He shone the torchlight to their right, revealing a second tunnel. “Guess we’re going this way.” Taking a few steps into their new direction, his torch started flickering. “Oh no, not now. Come on, just hold out a little longer.” He pawed at it with his hand, as if hitting it would give the batteries more juice. 

“You still got Octavia’s lighter?” Clarke asked.

“Yeah, here.” He tossed it to her and the brief flashes of torchlight illuminated her silhouette, showing her bend down over something.

A moment later, as his torch gave out, a warm orange light flooded the space. “Here,” Clarke said, as she handed him an old-fashioned torch with a wood handle and a strip of cloth at the top she had set alight.

“You came prepared.” He said, impressed.

“Not me, Lexa. Spotted them in the metal torch holders on the wall and picked them up – figured we might need them.”

“You figured right.” He took it as she used his flame to light up another torch for herself. “Nice romantic lighting, huh?”

Clarke eyed their surroundings with an eyebrow raised. “You have a funny idea of romantic.”

He chuckled. “Yes I do.” Through the flames of their torches, he could see that the corridor they chose had a fairly short length, leading to a dead end. Luckily, one of the support pillars in the centre of the space appeared to be near a large hole in the ceiling above it, and Bellamy felt an idea forming. “This looks promising. Boost you up?” Clarke could easily fit up there, and he could help her pull him up by half-climbing on the support beam. As she approached, he assumed the position with a squat, dropping his torch and holding his hands out interlaced at knee height. She stepped on his hands and he raised her upwards, hearing her grunt as she clambered over the edge, her torch disappearing with her. 

“Okay, give me your hand.” She called down breathlessly. He picked up his torch and reached for her with his other hand, grunting as he leveraged his weight against the pillar. She strained against his weight, but managed to pull him high enough for him to get a good grip over the edge and climb over to join her. The soft amber torchlight illuminated their surroundings as they caught their breath. Short and cramped, it was barely bigger than a crawlspace, but seemed stable enough to move around in. If Bellamy had his bearings correct, they could probably crawl through for a bit before dropping down and re-joining the trail. Neither of them was particularly claustrophobic; small spaces are part of the job when you’re a treasure hunter, but nonetheless he could tell Clarke was just as eager to get out of there as he was. The heat was getting a little uncomfortable, and not being able to stand up straight would hurt soon – they weren’t as young as they used to be.

Following the approximate direction of the blocked path, it didn’t take long before they dropped down into a new area. Bellamy jumped down first, taking in the scene in front of him as Clarke trailed close behind him. A small, rounded area of the cave, still pitch black but for their torches, with some decoration that would even be excessive on Halloween. Bundles of the skeletal remains of human arms hung from the ceiling like grotesque chandeliers, hanging so low that the fingers could graze their shoulders. He dreaded to guess how many there were, but instinct told him about a hundred, maybe more. 

“What the hell is this?” It was the first thing they saw that seemed to get under Clarke’s skin.

Searching for an answer to her question, he scanned their environment. A wooden plank pinned on the wall caught his eye, with a message carved into it. He read aloud. “’The hands that stole from me’. Looks like the power got to Lexa’s head; this is… insane.” He couldn’t think of another word for it. The idea of what all these people went through sent a chill through his bones. 

Clearly Clarke was thinking the same thing. “I don’t like this place.” 

“Me either. Let’s get out of here.”

Three possible exits to this area were in front of them, but two had been caved in, probably from wear and tear over hundreds of years, or maybe from the unrest during the rebellion. Whatever the cause, it left them just one option to move forward, and they took it gladly. Anywhere was better than a place with arms dangling from the roof. The passage took them away from the mud-encased walls of the creepy room with the bones to a more familiar looking stone-lined corridor similar to the earlier parts of the cave. A few dozen feet in, something strange drew Bellamy’s attention. Two on the left and one on the right, there were human-shaped figures draped in cloth and tied to wooden poles lining the edges of the corridor. “Are those… mummies?” He asked for Clarke’s input. 

“Maybe more of Lexa’s victims. She must have been well past sanity at this point.” She offered.

Bellamy took a few tentative steps closer as Clarke hung back, a little freaked out. Squinting in the low light, he held the flame of his torch up closer to the mummies. Searching their covered faces for details, he almost didn’t feel the stone shift beneath his feet, or hear the familiar, threatening hiss of a lit fuse on a stick of dynamite. The mummies were explosive, and he just stepped on their trigger. With no time for words, he dived back to Clarke and leapt on top of her, knocking the torches from their hands as the explosion rattled through the space. Luckily no flames sparked a fire, but if he’d been standing where he was a second ago, he’d be as dead as the pirates that were entombed in this cave.

When the dust settled, he checked on Clarke. “You okay?” He panted.

“I think so.” She wiped her brow as he stood up, gathering their torches. “What was that?” 

“A trap.” He gave her one of the torches. “Lexa really didn’t want any trespassers down here.” With a big breath, he steeled himself and moved forward. “Alright, watch your step.”

“Me?” She laughed breathlessly, hiding her fear and concern. “You’re the one that stepped on it.”

“Fine, watch _my_ step.” He retorted, glancing back at her as he walked.

“Bellamy!” The sharp change in tone and the urgency in her voice alarmed him, and too late, he felt the same shift in a stone under his feet. He’d set off another mummy. Same routine, he sprinted back to where Clarke was and pulled her out of the blast radius as a rush of heat, dust and debris headed straight for them.

Coughing and spluttering, he managed a curse under his breath. “God dammit,” He scolded himself. He needed to be more careful, he was putting both of them in danger.

“Are you okay?”

“Still in one piece. I might stay a little way back if I were you.”

The next few he saw coming, and was able to scan the ground, testing out every step on his toes, ready to dive at a moment’s notice. When he would successfully navigate a path, he’d beckon for Clarke to retrace his steps and join him, before halting her progress while he tested the next area. They fell into a practiced rhythm, settling into their pace until Bellamy had to hop over an obstruction in the path, and his feet landed heavily on a trap stone. A hiss and spark on the nearby mummies told him to duck and cover, so he ran ahead this time instead of behind. The boom echoed through the corridor, and faint coughing sounds behind him let him know Clarke had survived. He called out to her. “You okay?” As the dust made its way towards him, he started coughing too. “Ugh, this can’t be healthy to breathe.”

“Yeah! I’m okay.” She cleared her throat, catching her breath with her hands on her knees before walking to him. “Well, now we know what caused the explosion we heard earlier.”

“No wonder so many parts of the passage are caved in.”

As the corridor widened again into another room, it seemed like they were in the clear for the moment, but they found themselves facing a different horror. Another room like the one with the arms, only this time instead of dangling limbs, they were faced with strings of jaw bones hanging down like fairy lights, some of them still filled with teeth.

“‘The mouths that spoke ill of me’.” Clarke read from the sign pinned above the display and shivered. 

“If this is Lexa’s idea of decoration, I’d hate to see her Christmas tree.”

Not wanting to stay here any longer than they had to, they pushed on. They hadn’t seen any more footprints since the original path got blocked, and the pressure was on to keep moving forwards, and to catch up to Octavia. Unfortunately the passage didn’t get any less creepy, as they seemed to come across a new skeleton every few minutes. As the corridor widened into another clearing, the pieces fell together. Signs of a struggle, old swords strewn across the floor, and daggers stuck in ribcages. Clarke commented on the scene. “Looks like Anya’s men caught up to Lexa’s after all.”

“I wonder who won – and what happened to the treasure.” A large metal door came into view at the end of the corridor, one of the skeletons blocking the way forwards. He still had his hat on. “Excuse me, sir.” Bellamy forced the door open, knocking the unstable bones over and a high-pitched metallic clang sounded from where they landed. Inspecting the source of the noise, he bent down and picked up the item that fell from the pirate’s hand and showed it to Clarke with a smile. “Hey, check it out. Skeleton key.”

“What’s that note in his pocket?” She nodded to the tattered remains of his coat.

Bellamy picked it out gingerly, more grossed out by potential insects than the skeleton itself. “It’s from Anya to her second.” He summarised the message. “Seems like she sent him with half her forces to the tunnels, and she took the other half through the valley to try and cut Lexa off before she sailed away with the treasure. It says the key should open any doors down here, but to look out for traps.” He folded the note away. “All this betrayal… what ever happened to honest thieves?”

“That’s an oxymoron.” She commented with a snort as they pressed on, moving through the doorway. “Whoa, bright. Feels like I haven’t seen the sun in a while.”

“Ah, fresh air.” Bellamy exhaled, taking in a deep breath. The door had brought them to a more open part of the tunnels, still well below ground level but light filtered through the ivy and rock above them and provided a little relief from the stuffy tunnels. They must be getting close to the end. They felt safe enough to drop their torches into a pool of water that had collected below one of the openings above them, freeing up both their hands. It felt good to be rid of some weight. As they approached another door, Bellamy grinned. “Aha – keyhole, meet key.” He proudly took out the skeleton key they found a moment ago ready to slot it into the hole by the door.

“Wait.” Clarke grabbed his arm. “It could be a trap.”

“It’s our only choice.” He replied, as the corner of his lip twitched up in a smile. “Only choice. Also an oxymoron, by the way.”

“So is cold sweat.” She pushed back the curls that had become stuck to his face. All that time in the cold tunnels, and she had only just noticed he’d been perspiring the whole time. He put up a good front, but he must be really worried. “Are you okay?”

He hesitated. “No. But I will be once we’re all safe.” He played with the key in his hand. “Together?”

“Together.” She nodded as he turned the key. Bracing for some sort of trap and ready to jump backwards if necessary, they cautiously pushed the door open to reveal another open part of the cave, this time with more of the mummies they had seen earlier, and some skeletons trapped in nets hanging from what remained of the ceiling.

A moment passed as the dust settled, before Bellamy turned to her with a smile. “See? We’re fi- whoa!” He cut himself off as both of them were scooped up by a net trap under their feet. They found themselves tangled together, swinging from the roof of the cave about ten or fifteen feet off the ground. Bellamy’s legs seemed to have slotted between Clarke’s as they faced each other, Clarke essentially on his lap. “Well…” He considered their position as she shifted over his crotch. “Could be worse.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, biting back a retort as one of the mummies on the far side of the room exploded. “Shit!” The flames from the blast seemed to light the fuse on the mummy next to it, setting off a chain of explosions slowly but surely heading straight for them.

“You didn’t happen to bring a knife, did you?” Bellamy panicked, cursing himself for not bringing one with him. 

“No,” Clarke’s eyeline settled on a skeleton hanging in a rope net close to them, an old-fashioned sword buried to the hilt in his ribcage. “But he has one. Help me swing.”

Together, they used their momentum to swing their net towards the skeleton, Bellamy’s hand reaching out to try to grab the handle. No dice. Another explosion peppered them with dust from the blast and a wave of heat washed over them as they tried again. Bellamy’s fingers stretched out, millimetres away from the handle, so close he could practically feel the jewels on the grip, but just a little out of reach. Running out of time. As they reared back for their third swing, the next mummy blew, the gust of air giving them the extra force they needed for him to wrap his hand around the sword, pulling it back out of the skeleton as they swung the opposite way. A hiss of a fuse below them told them the mummy nearest to them was about to explode, and with a swift cut on the taut rope keeping their net above ground, the pair fell unceremoniously to the floor.

No time to worry about being winded, Clarke stood first and clutched Bellamy’s hand as they scrambled as far away from the mummy as they could, sprinting away as a domino effect of blasts sent flames shooting up to the sky and hot air biting at their backs. At a clearing up ahead, they launched themselves off a precipice as the final, biggest explosion sent them flying over the edge. Bellamy grabbed Clarke mid-air and twisted so he’d hit the ground on his back and soften her landing. With a thud and a splash, they landed in a muddy puddle and the hard bedrock base knocked out what little air Bellamy had left in his body before he quickly rolled on top of Clarke and shut his eyes, shielding her from debris and bracing himself to be hit by it instead. He stayed like that until the world felt like it stopped spinning and the ringing in his ears subsided. Collapsing back beside Clarke, he let out a disbelieving smile as he looked at their surroundings: their escape had taken them to the mouth of the cave, and sunlight filtered in from the entrance nearby. He glanced up at the passage they had been running through moments ago, finding it now caved in by piles of wood and rock. Against all odds, they survived – and the thought reminded him of all the other close calls they had had in the past. “Just like old times, huh?” He joked with a half-smile as he nudged Clarke with his foot. A silent beat passed, and his gaze fell to her for the first time since the blast. “Clarke?”

She was lying in the position he left her in after he shielded her from the explosion: on her back, eyes closed, still, unmoving. He scrambled back over to her, cupping her face carefully in his hands.

“Clarke?” He said her name again, panic filling his voice. “Hey. Hey, Clarke, come on.” He urged her to wake up, shaking her shoulder with one hand. “Clarke?!” It was less of a question this time, more of a shout of desperation.

“_Uurgh…”_ A weak groan escaped her lips, and Bellamy stilled, not sure if he imagined it. “_My… hero…”_ her exaggerated whisper soon followed as she opened her eyes with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She’d been faking it.

Bellamy fell back and let out a groan of relief before scolding her. “Oh, no, you didn’t do that.”

Clarke chuckled as she sat up, the soft giggle growing into full-bellied laughter.

“No! That’s not funny!”

“Oh, you have done _much _worse!”

“You gave me a goddamn heart attack!” He laid flat on his back, catching his breath.

“_Oh_,” she said softly, as if comforting him. “Let me listen.” She rested her ear on the left side of his chest, letting her arm drape across the other side. She closed her eyes with a contented smile and felt the soft beat of his heart as his chest rose and fell. “Sounds good to me.”

Bellamy stared at the ceiling, still processing what had just happened. “You do realise we are now even for everything I have _ever_ pulled, right?”

Clarke simply popped her head up in response, scrunching her face and shooting him a look that needed no words to translate.

“Yeah, like _ever.”_ He reiterated. 

“No, not by a long shot.” She disagreed with a laugh, and he reluctantly joined in. He wasn’t actually mad at her, just relieved she was okay. And after everything he’d put her through over the years, a part of him thought he deserved it. “Gosh, you’ve got mud _everywhere_.” She grinned affectionately as she gently wiped away the brown marks on his face, taking extra care as she skimmed over his cuts. Bellamy let her clean him up, watching the way her forehead creased and how she stuck her tongue out when she concentrated. When she was satisfied, she cupped his face with one hand and they locked eyes for a moment.

“Anyone ever tell you, you have a funny idea of romantic?” 

The corner of her mouth twitched up. “Yeah… yeah I may have heard that somewhere before.” Clarke leaned in, bringing their faces closer together as Bellamy cupped the back of her head to pull her in faster. With everything that had been going on lately, they’d barely seen each other, and when they did there were more important things to do than kiss. He’d missed the way her lips felt so soft against his, so warm and inviting, and the way she lightly tugged on his curls as if on instinct as they kissed. Even after all these years, he could swear that whenever their lips met, he could feel a part of her reaching down into his chest and gripping his heart, keeping it warm and held like she owned it. As far as Bellamy was concerned, she did. He wasn’t sure how long they embraced for, but they both pulled away. 

“Good talk.” He said softly.

Clarke gave him a confirmatory nod. “Good talk.” 

As was almost routine now, their talk was interrupted by a burst of gunfire echoing from somewhere not too far from the exit of the cave. “That must be Octavia. Come on.” He stood and helped Clarke up, and the two of them walked out of the cave side by side.

When they emerged from the cave, squinting as they adjusted to the light, the mast of a grand ship came into view. They must be near the shore. “Is that… a galleon?” Clarke asked as more of the ship became visible.

Bellamy studied the giant vessel in front of them. Galleons were enormous ships for their times, with multiple decks and masts. Initially they had been used as warships, but in peacetime they found use as trade vessels, and became a favourite among pirates and well-known thieves like Lexa. “Sure looks like it.” The ship was in pretty bad shape, tattered and broken. Definitely not fit to be used for anything other than firewood. Turning the corner outside the cave, Bellamy got a sweeping view of the coastline in front of them and his breath caught in his throat as he took it all in. “_Holy crap…_”

“It’s a ship graveyard.” Clarke commented. Vessels of all shapes and sizes lay strewn across the shore below them, and from their high vantage point atop the cliffs they could see hundreds.

The flash of a gun firing down below drew their attention, and Bellamy pointed to the source. “Down there!” A figure was being pursued by several armed mercenaries in Azgeda colours. “It’s Octavia; she’s surrounded.”

Clarke met his eyes with determination. “Let’s go get her.”

Climbing had always been one of Bellamy’s strong suits. It came naturally to him, and as he scrambled down the rocks and ledges to reach sea level, he and Clarke had to take extra care to stay hidden, making sure they had some cover behind rocks and plants to shield themselves from view of the Azgeda militia. Whipping out their pistols fast, they took aim at the men pursuing Octavia and fired. It might have seemed callous and cold, but in this world it was quite literally kill or be killed, and Bellamy had always been fiercely protective of the people he cared about. He wasn’t sure if it should worry him that he didn’t even flinch when shooting to kill, but right now he was focused on getting her out alive.

Their shots gave away their position, and while it helped Octavia by drawing their fire away from her, it meant their lives were in danger now. A stroke of luck – he spotted an Azgeda supply box a little way away on the beach; clearly they’d arrived here by boat. Bellamy knew there was only one thing they’d consider worth hauling all the way over here, and that was weapons. The Azgeda were gaining on them by the second, and despite a warning look from Clarke, he went for it. Their pistols only had so much ammo, and for the amount of soldiers they were up against, he needed more. He dashed across the beach, kicking up sand with every step as bullets sprayed by his feet, whizzed past his chest, and narrowly missed him. Skidding to a stop, he ducked behind the crate as he popped it open, relieved to find it fully stocked with rifles. Gunfire from Clarke snapped him out of his brief gun-induced daze, and he quickly took out the two soldiers advancing on her. Thanks to the structure of the cliffs by the beach, they found themselves in a small bay area fairly enclosed from their surroundings, meaning as far as they could tell, no other soldiers could see where they were. But the sounds of gunfire were still filling the air, and that meant Octavia needed help.

“Let’s cut through here,” Bellamy gestured to the crumbling remains of the ships around them. “If they can’t see us they can’t shoot us.”

Clarke caught the rifle he tossed her as he picked up another. “How do we find Octavia?”

“Same way you found me,” He replied, shifting a plank of wood on the side of a ship to reveal a hole straight through it. “Follow the sounds of gunfire.”

As they cut through the bilges of the ships, they ran parallel to the dozens of armed mercenaries heading for the sound of fighting, and Bellamy tried not to think about how many more could be coming. Just before Bellamy was about to exit the fifth ship, Clarke pulled him back sharply. “Look, up there.” She pointed. “The upper deck of that ship – it’s Octavia!”

She was right. He followed her line of sight to the next ship, a grand warship he presumed, with steeply curved sides and decorations that while deteriorated now would have been impressive in its heyday. On the exposed top deck, he found his sister frantically ducking for cover behind wood that splintered with every bullet, and watched her face contort as she cursed, smacking her presumably jammed handgun in frustration. Looked like an Azgeda weapon from this distance; Roan would have disarmed her so she must have stolen one from her guard when she made a break for it. He lined up a shot at the mercenary closest to her, and felt Clarke take up a similar position as she raised her rifle too. Wasting no more time, they both pulled their triggers and the gunfire ceased, the remaining soldiers’ attention drawn away from Octavia, who looked shocked and frantically scanned the area for the source of the shots. She locked eyes with her brother and let out a relieved grin. Bellamy returned her smile with a brief but reassuring nod, before diving out into the open to race towards her, Clarke by his side to help finish off the last few Azgeda in the area. Once it was safe, Octavia kicked down an old rope ladder to let them up. “Bell, Clarke!” she sounded out of breath. “Man, am I glad to see you.” She reached out her hand to help them up with a grunt. “Hey, did you find my lighter?”

Before either of them could answer, another two rovers full of mercenaries pulled up into the beach. “Oh, come on!” Bellamy vented, putting his hand on Clarke’s back to steer her to cover. “O, how many bullets have you got?”

“I’m out.” She flashed an apologetic look before bullets started whizzing past the crates they were hiding behind. 

Clarke gave him a worried look. “Bellamy…”

“I know.” He gulped, scanning their surroundings. Five or six Azgeda men hopped out of each rover, armed to the teeth. They were pinned down and didn’t have enough bullets to go around, sitting ducks behind the flimsy crates that wouldn’t hold for long. Bellamy knew this day would come eventually; a long life expectancy is hardly guaranteed in this line of work, and he cursed himself for getting Clarke and Octavia mixed up in it all. But if he was going to go down, he’d go down fighting. He cast his gaze over his wife and sister, savouring the glance and burning every feature into his brain, as though it was the last time he’d see their faces. It _was_ the last time he’d see their faces. Shutting his eyes, he collected himself before snapping them open with renewed determination. “I’ll draw their fire. When they shoot at me, run.”

Clarke gripped his arm like her life depended on it, clamping it down and rooting him to the spot. “Bellamy, don’t-” 

A thunderous boom hit their ears with force as an RPG soared over their heads – not headed for them, but for the Azgeda rovers. It landed with a bang, hitting the petrol tank on the first rover sending flames shooting up to the sky and a wave of heat reaching as far as Bellamy. The second rover didn’t stay standing for long, the shockwave so powerful it flipped over sideways, pinning down a couple of soldiers under the heavy metal framework of the vehicle. When the movement down below stopped and they were sure the rest of the Azgeda were dead, Bellamy turned his attention to their saviour. Craning his neck upwards, he saw him in all his glory: Marcus Kane, standing on a rocky ridge a few feet above them, holding a goddamn rocket launcher. The laugh escaped his lips before he could help it.

“Got a little tired of waiting for you kids to get back to me.” Kane explained. “This old dog’s still got some fight in him yet.”

“Do you ever get sick of saving his ass?” Clarke joked, elbowing Bellamy lightly.

Kane grinned. “Never.”

While they exchanged thanks, Octavia scanned their surroundings. “Too exposed here. Let’s head inland, we can catch up there.”

As they clambered down the ship and into the trees, Bellamy eyed the bandage on her shoulder, red beginning to stain the crisp white dressing over the wound. “How’s your shoulder?” 

She shrugged, partly in reply and partly to show him she still could. “Just a graze. What happened there?” She pointed to his forehead.

“I, uh, hit it on my way down the waterfall. Clarke patched me up.”

The corner of Octavia’s lip flickered upwards for a flash as she eyed Clarke, who was walking with Kane ahead of them, just out of earshot. “She’s too good for you.” 

“I know.”

“And she’s kind of a badass.” 

This time Bellamy was the one whose lip tugged upwards. “I know.”

There was a pause before Octavia continued. “I like her.”

“I like her too.” Knowing Octavia approved of his choice of wife made some old sibling bond stir inside his chest, and the brother and sister continued in silence for a while, wandering past the lush greens and deep browns of their surroundings. “How’d you get away from Roan and Echo?”

“Led them into one of Lexa’s traps. She might’ve been a paranoid maniac, but she saved my ass.”

Smart. Octavia wasn’t the most physically imposing figure in the world, but Bellamy would never want to be on the receiving end of her technical skill as a fighter or her brain. Kane had once told them that they didn’t have to kill all of their enemies, they only had to kill the last one. It led to some lateral thinking at times, and it didn’t hurt that Octavia was agile, pretty good with a gun and pretty great at hand to hand. Bellamy nodded his approval at her tactic, but didn’t make a comment on it. 

She let the silence sit with her before speaking again. “Hey, about the whole Cage Wallace thing…”

As she was searching for the right words, Bellamy cut in. “We can save that for another day. Right now, let’s just get to Indra.”

Octavia stopped still, pulling Bellamy to a halt with her. “Indra? You mean Kane’s plane? No, no, we’re not leaving. No way!”

Kane and Clarke stopped too, turning back to see what the ruckus was about. Bellamy shook his sister’s hand off his arm and kept his voice down, irritated that she’d made a scene but determined not to stoop to her level. “You do remember what happened back there, right? We _all_ almost died. We just got you back, I’m not putting any of us in danger again.”

“Do you see that?” Octavia pointed to a distinctive cliff face, looking like talons hooking over the ocean. “Right under there is Lexa’s ship – _with_ the treasure on board. From where I left Roan and Echo, they’re going to have to go all the way around the other side of the ridge. We can just cut through the jungle here and then-”

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Bellamy was surprised to find the words not coming from his own mouth, but Kane’s. His voice was a mixture of disappointment and annoyance.

“Octavia, none of us came here for the treasure. We came here to save you.” Clarke chimed in.

The younger Blake reached out to hold her hand, clasping it earnestly. “And I appreciate that, Clarke, I do. But I’m fine, we all are. And we have the upper hand; at least for now. We can’t leave empty-handed after all this.” No one spoke, leaving Octavia to gesture around her in frustration. “Look, why do you think all the ships back there were destroyed?”

“Because Lexa was hell-bent on getting her treasure.” Clarke replied.

“Exactly!”

“No matter the cost to the others around her.”

That landed on Octavia and she stepped back, offended, before letting out a breath. They couldn’t afford to fight right now. “Because she didn’t want anyone to follow her after she left with the treasure. But here’s the thing – I don’t think she ever made it out of that cove. All the maps, notes, and artefacts I’ve found along the way – nothing suggests she ever actually left Polis. Her ship is still there under that cliff with everything she could pack onto it. And Roan’s headed there right now.”

“This whole thing smells a lot like wild goose to me, kid.” Kane sighed.

With Clarke and Kane both vocally disagreeing, Octavia turned to her so far stoic brother, looking on with his arms folded over his chest. “Come on, big brother. We’ve been after this thing for fifteen years, don’t tell me you’re not the least bit curious how it ends.” Bellamy gave her nothing. She lowered her voice, leaning in close. “No offence to these guys, but they don’t get it.” 

Bellamy’s head dropped, hanging low for a moment, before he lifted it to meet her eyes. “Actually, Octavia, they do. We’ve all seen this kind of… _obsession_ before, and it only ends one way. Jesus, O, we were just kids back then. We can’t play treasure hunter anymore; we have real lives to get back to.”

“Maybe you do. Not me.”

He flinched at Octavia’s words. To be honest, he hadn’t really thought about how much this treasure might have meant to her if it was the only thing keeping her sane back when she was locked up. Of course she didn’t have a life to get back to, and that was on him. He didn’t look for her hard enough. He didn’t protect her… but he couldn’t risk losing her again. She must have seen the pain on his face, because she stepped back, holding her hands up in surrender.

“Okay. Fine.” Her voice was gentle, and she let her decision settle among the group. “Hey Kane, where’s that plane?” 

“Right this way.” Kane stepped forwards, heading towards a clearing showing the remains of a small port town. Octavia followed his lead, leaving Clarke and Bellamy to watch them go. Clarke closed the distance between them, not saying a word, but gently squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. _You did the right thing._ With a quick sympathetic smile, she started after them as well. Bellamy couldn’t quite shake Octavia’s words, or the pit they left in his stomach, but nevertheless he continued on. He was getting them all out of here if it was the last thing he did. 

The group reached a sheer drop in their path, a steep-sided valley below them with a drop sure to be deadly. A rope bridge left over from Lexa’s time was the only point of access in their immediate vicinity. “This doesn’t look steady.” Bellamy observed as the bridge swayed in the breeze. Now that he thought about it, ‘bridge’ seemed too generous a word for the frayed ropes and planks of wood before them.

“We’ve crossed worse.” Clarke reminded him. “Besides, Kane crossed it on the way over here, right?” She looked to him for confirmation.

Kane met her eyes. “Just don’t look down.” He went first, as if to demonstrate its safety, beckoning Clarke to join him halfway through. She warily tested out the wood, feeling for any rotten planks, before quickening her pace. Bellamy didn’t want to leave too big a gap between them in case something went wrong and he needed to grab her, so as soon as Kane was safely on the other side, he followed straight away. He felt the beams shift as Octavia put her weight on the first step, and Bellamy called out a warning.

“Easy! I don’t want to overload it.”

Clarke scuttled to the other side and Bellamy let out a sigh of relief knowing she was safe. Octavia continued her advancement towards him, meeting him at the centre of the bridge. “Did I ever tell you I don’t like heights?”

Ah. That explained the way Octavia seemed to want to cling close to her brother for safety. “Don’t look down.”

“Not helping.” As if the bridge could hear her, the wood complained underneath them, groaning as it threatened to splinter, the ropes suddenly feeling looser under Bellamy’s hands.

He risked a step forward and wished he hadn’t. Two people crammed together at the weakest point in the bridge made it unstable, and the ropes snapped right down the middle, sending the siblings flying in opposite directions as they gripped the ends of the bridge for dear life. Bellamy slammed into the cliffside hard, his hands getting rope burn as he slid down the remnants of the bridge, finally getting a foothold on one of the planks like a rung of a ladder. Overlapping shouts from the group clouded his ears, some his own, but he heard Clarke let out an exasperated “Thank _God,_” and he knew Octavia was okay. Climbing up as quickly and safely as he could, he felt arms pull him up over the final edge and Clarke took him in, holding him tight and dragging him away from the edge. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his sister hauling herself up over the opposite edge of the cliff, back where they started. The group exchanged looks, relieved everyone was okay but concerned at Octavia’s isolation.

“Hang tight!” Kane called out to her. “There’s a safer crossing a little further inland, I used it on the way out to you guys.”

Clarke threw him a look. “So you _didn’t_ cross this thing after all?”

“Clarke, I was holding a rocket launcher. Kind of knocks off your balance.”

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Bellamy asked.

“Because this is the fastest way to the plane. Besides, you never would’ve crossed otherwise.”

“Damn right we wouldn’t!” He cast his gaze over to Octavia, who was running a hand through her hair in stress. Even from this distance, Bellamy knew that look. She was thinning her lips into a line, mulling something over. She was about to do something stupid. As she cast a long look back to that distinctive ridge signalling the position of Lexa’s ship, he put two and two together. “O! Don’t even think about it!”

She paced – a step towards the mountain, a step back to the ridge – she was struggling with this. “I’m sorry, big brother. I have to see this through.” Without so much as a goodbye, she set off running for Lexa’s treasure.

“Octavia!” Bellamy roared after her, practically tearing his hair out. He felt Clarke put a hand on his back and he shrugged it off. “She’s gonna get herself killed.” 

He was too caught up in his own emotions to see, but Clarke and Kane shared a look and a silent nod. “Let’s bring her home. I’ll get Indra and set her down as close to that cliff as I can – you two just focus on getting Octavia out of there in one piece.” 

Bellamy gave Kane a quick nod. “We’ll see you there.” As they set off on the trek through the thick foliage, he wondered how long it would take for him to stop following his sister to certain death.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!! I've been in a writing rut for such a long time, with this fic and others, but seeing all of the incredible content creators in this fandom working super hard to get their fics out has inspired me to go on, and I've finally wrapped this one up. If you're still here, thank you so much. Your reads, kudos, and comments mean more to me than I could put into words, and I hope this last chapter has done you justice. Thank you all so much, stay safe <3

Waist-deep in cold water, Clarke and Bellamy were trying to stay silent as they waded through the cave. Clarke patted at her waist, double-checking her small waterproof pack was still in place. She had tried to muddy it hours ago to mask the bright orange colour, but once they stepped into the water it had washed clean off. She was thankful she had the foresight to bring it, or else she was sure they’d be in trouble. This way, they had an escape route – a radio tuned in to Kane’s frequency, a GPS tracker, and a flare gun to signal him. The trek had been long, but with Azgeda on the other side of the island and having taken a shortcut through the mountain, they’d been able to make good time. Now they were approaching a small wooden jetty with a few small rowboats moored to it, and just in the distance, backlit by the mouth of the cave, was a magnificent, gold-encrusted ship. While its sails were tattered, its grandeur remained untouched by the tests of time. Several decks high and ornately decorated, this was a vessel fit for a Commander. This was Lexa’s ship. Just as Bellamy and Clarke exchanged an excited glance, they heard footsteps approaching, and swam quickly under the cover of the jetty.

“Is that everything?” Echo asked someone standing on the pier.

A loud thump sounded as a crate was placed on the wooden boards. “Yes ma’am, the rest is already on the boat.” A man answered her – Azgeda if Bellamy had to guess. He peered up through the slits in the wood and eyed three figures on the dock – Echo and two of her men. He saw their heads turn as another few people approached.

“Octavia just stole our goddamn speedboat. She’ll beat us to Lexa’s treasure, but not by much. Come on.” Roan’s voice carried below the jetty.

“You’re going after her?” Echo protested. “No, no, we have millions worth of gold already that we picked up from the mansion. If that girl wants to get herself blown up or worse hunting down a mad woman’s treasure, I say let her.”

“We’re not done here, Echo.”

“Most of my men are dead, Roan. And a lot of the ones that survived have already left. This is a pipe dream, it’s time to call it.”

Roan took a step back in surprise and huffed. “Can you see that?” He pointed at the ship. “The end is literally in sight, and you want to stop now?”

Echo scoffed. “That damn pirate rigged this whole cave with traps, you don’t seriously think I’m gonna set foot on her ship, do you? Like I said, we’ve already got more than enough treasure. And we get to leave here with our lives.”

She started walking away back to dry land, but Roan let out a humourless chuckle. “No wonder so many of your men abandoned you.”

Her footsteps stopped. “Excuse me?”

“Hundreds of millions worth of treasure right in front of you, not to mention the chance to make history, and you’re happy to leave with pennies compared to what Octavia stands to get.”

She paced towards him slowly but deliberately, like a big cat cornering her prey. “If she can walk away from that ship alive, she can have the treasure. Hell, I’d say she’s earned it.” Bellamy was at just the right angle to see her face as she tugged an eyebrow up before raking her eyes down Roan in judgement. “God knows you didn’t.”

Roan’s hand flew to Echo’s face, landing a hard, open-palmed slap that echoed through the cave. Bellamy knew she was skilled enough to have blocked it if she’d seen it coming, but from the way she cradled her face in shock it was clear she hadn’t been expecting it. He glanced at Clarke, who had covered her own mouth to stifle a gasp.

“These playground insults are getting us nowhere. We need to get in our boat now and catch-”

He was cut off by a sharp kick to his gut, knocking the air out of him before Echo hooked her leg around him and toppled him to the ground before grabbing her sidearm, pointing the pistol at him. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but…”

She trailed off as the mercenaries around them raised their weapons to her, clicking the safety off and pulling back the hammers on their guns.

Roan coughed, slowly getting to his feet as one of the armed men offered him a hand. “Well Echo, I think I’m in charge. I tried to do this nicely, but since you forced my hand…” Echo was so stunned she still hadn’t put down her pistol, confusion and betrayal crossing her features. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Echo. The thing about guns-for-hire is, they’re for hire. And out of the two of us, I’m writing the bigger cheque. So, you can either get in the goddamn boat and make history with us, or we can end it right here. Your choice.”

Echo let the words sink in before responding. “You’re a fucking bastard, you know that, right?” Despite herself, she gave in and shoulder-checked Roan before stepping in the boat.

Clarke and Bellamy just about heard Roan mutter under his breath, “That’s what I thought.” as the mercenaries followed her into the boat. They waited for a few minutes after the boat left to be sure they were alone before they risked so much as looking at each other. Both finding themselves lost for words after what just happened, they just pushed on, swimming now rather than walking as they heeded Echo’s warning about traps in the cave. Bellamy couldn’t say he was too surprised; Roan had always been a loose cannon. But buying out Echo’s men from underneath her? That was low. Jesus, he almost felt sorry for the girl. Almost.

Though the cave was dimly lit, the closer they swam to the ship, the brighter their surroundings, and the vibrant glimmers of light around him confirmed his suspicions that they weren’t alone in the water. Tropical fish, though petite, came in vivid colour as small schools swam past, cutting between them with ease. The last time he and Clarke had been swimming with fish like these was on their honeymoon, which seemed a world away from where they were now. He almost turned to give her a meaningful look, but a rush of heat and flames from Lexa’s ship grabbed their attention, halting their progress and leaving them treading water.

“One of Lexa’s traps?” Clarke whispered.

“Or Azgeda blowing things up again. Either way, Octavia’s in the middle of it.” Sense of urgency renewed by the danger, Bellamy scanned their surroundings. Swimming was slow and taxing, but there was a strip of dry land running parallel to the water. If he could just find a ledge…

Perfect – a half-broken wooden ladder to their left gave them the chance to climb out. He beckoned Clarke over and gave her a boost; the slats were just a little out of reach without assistance. Once she was up, he pushed off from the shallow ground and reached for her outstretched hand, waterlogged clothes weighing him down as she strained. With a grimace, Clarke pulled him over the edge, and they collapsed onto a gravel path. No time to wring out their clothes, they sprinted to the ship, where the beakhead was hanging by a thread. Still burning, the weakened wood splintered and creaked as it eventually gave, falling into the water with a resounding splash and a sizzle, leaving steam rising from the lake.

Close now, they were getting a much clearer view of the ship. “It’s beached on the rock – there!” Clarke pointed to a break in the hull, easy access to the inside of the ship. An amber haze and crackling wood told them the ship was still burning, and smoke trailed through Bellamy’s throat as he climbed in. Tendrils seemed to curl and scratch at him like claws inside his lungs, and he couldn’t hold back a coughing fit. Brief moments of clarity through the clouds gave him fleeting clues to where he was – crates, barrels, scrolls – probably a storage area for supplies. Judging by the amount, Lexa was planning on a long trip.

Clarke followed close behind him and stayed in his shadow as they moved through the boat. Cautiously treading past the body of a man in Azgeda uniform, they explored the galleon in search of Octavia. The ship was more like a building, too many rooms to search individually, and thick, dark smoke obscured their vision. Conscious of their precarious situation, Bellamy glanced at the ceiling above him; wood creaking and grumbling as it splintered in the heat.

“Bellamy, I don’t know how much more damage the ship can take.” Clarke whispered gently, but her tone sounded almost pitying. He knew what she was trying to say, but he couldn’t give up. Not now, not after all this time. 

He set his jaw. “We just need to move faster.” They couldn’t afford to wander around the whole ship, not with the fire and not with Azgeda here; he had to narrow it down. Think, Bellamy… if you were Lexa, where would you stash your treasure? He closed his eyes; he always found that helped him think. Had to be somewhere easy to access; with that amount of treasure to stash in a hurry, she couldn’t have hidden it in the bowels of the ship. Strategically, it made sense to keep it somewhere with lots of open space and only one way in or out. His knowledge of old ships was rusty at this point, but the flicker of an idea formed in his mind. “Below deck, bottom floor.” Bellamy muttered.

“What?” Clarke called out, crackling timber drowning out their words.

“One way in, one way out. Has to be where she kept the treasure. Follow me, eyes sharp.” He called out as he ran, covering his nose and mouth with the collar of his still-damp shirt. The ship’s layout was like a hotel; a long corridor with branching rooms and stairways to the side, and as they scurried down the steps, dodging bodies and debris, Bellamy couldn’t help but notice the heat intensifying. Eyes still ahead of him, his hand reached out for Clarke, making sure she was still there. Safe. Her presence always kept him centred. Beads of sweat rolled down the nape of his neck, but barely reached the fabric of his shirt before being whisked away by the sweltering air. The low rumble of the fires covered any noise their movements made, until eventually, they reached their destination. The door to the orlop, well below the waterline, the lowest deck of the ship, lay before them. He looked at Clarke almost for permission, and she gave him the faintest nod as he cocked his pistol, breaking through the fragile wood and missing the rope ladder, instead falling to the floor below.

Gold and yellows filled his vision, not only from the lapping flames, but from the expanse of treasure surrounding him. Piles upon piles of loose golden coins with Lexa’s insignia, chests full of precious gems and jewellery, ornate goblets and telescopes, and diamond-encrusted swords littered the area, and Bellamy savoured the view. The child inside of him was in awe – after all that time, all that searching, now Lexa’s fortune was right in front of him.

He didn’t savour it for very long.

His eyes locked on to something that made panic rise in his gut: Octavia, not moving, pinned under a fallen wooden beam firmly in place over her lower body. Just as he made a start to rush to her side, to see if she was breathing, the grimly familiar click of a cocked revolver sounded behind him, and a barrel was pressed to the back of his head.

“You know what your problem is, Blake?” Roan sounded exasperated. “You never know when to quit. Give me your gun.”

Slowly and deliberately, Bellamy raised his hands, praying Clarke was still out of sight above them. As Roan snatched the pistol from his left hand, he tried to reason with him. “I’m not here for the gold, Roan, please just let me get my sister out of here.”

In all their time working together, Bellamy had never heard Roan truly laugh. A short chuckle of disbelief, sure, but nothing like this. The sound was unhinged, deranged; it didn’t belong to the man he once knew. Something inside him had snapped, and it scared Bellamy more than he thought possible. “You don’t seriously think I’d believe that, do you? The two of you are like a rock in my boot – can’t shake you off. But not today. You’re not walking out of this one.”

Instinctively, he ducked, and the shot hit the wall in front of them, seawater leaking through the small hole. The bang deafened him as he spun on his heels and rammed himself into Roan with as much force as he could gather. With surprise on his side, he toppled him, and they grappled for control of the weapon when a booming voice interrupted them.

“Stop!” Echo called down from the door, holding a knife to Clarke’s throat. Bellamy immediately went limp, letting Roan stand and take his gun back.

“Ah, there you are. Come down, we’ll deal with them and get out of here.” Roan was almost casual.

“No.” her voice was a blizzard, cold and unforgiving.

“What did you just say?” He seethed.

“Look around you,” Echo nodded to their surroundings – the burning ship, beams splintering and groaning; seawater leaking in through the bullet hole; the two skeletons with swords in their ribcages. Amidst all of the chaos, Bellamy hadn’t had the chance to notice that until now. “That’s Lexa and Anya, they killed each other over what’s in this room. Every single person who’s gone after this treasure has died; it’s cursed. If you’re so insistent on joining them, fine – but I won’t be a part of it.” She dropped Clarke onto their level, and Bellamy rushed to her side. “As far as I care, you can all go to hell.”

Roan started for her in a rage, but she swiftly crouched to cut the rope ladder away, letting it fall to his feet. Too high to jump and too steep to climb, she left them trapped, turning away without a second glance. No longer human, Roan roared so forcefully Bellamy swore the room shook. Animalistic, he paced, redirecting his rage to the only other people in the room; his prey. “I will not be humiliated,” he spat through bared teeth, “by an old man, a history teacher, a washed-up journalist, and a fucking basket case.”

As he stalked towards them, Bellamy motioned for Clarke to get behind him. They paced carefully towards Octavia, risking a glance at her to see her regaining consciousness, weakly struggling with the beam crushing her legs. Water poured through the bullet hole behind her, and if she didn’t get it off soon, Bellamy knew she would drown. In the split second it took him to assess her predicament, Roan had armed himself with an ornate sword from a skeleton’s ribcage. “Never much liked guns,” he explained, voice now eerily calm, “too impersonal, too fast. I want to feel the life leave your body when I run you through.” As if to prove his point, he dangled his sawn-off shotgun in his other hand before tossing it halfway between himself and Octavia, followed by Bellamy’s own pistol he had taken from him earlier. A challenge; almost daring Bellamy to try to dive for it before he could strike.

Bellamy knew going for the gun was suicide. Instead, he eyed the counterpart to Roan’s sword, currently buried to the hilt in the other skeleton. “Then let’s settle this like men.” He nodded to the weapon, and Roan gave a theatrical bow, granting amnesty for him to pick it up. He half-turned his head to Clarke, whispering instructions to go to Octavia’s side, before reaching for the sword. Bracing his foot against the skeleton, he gave a sharp pull until the weapon was freed, and Roan was on him instantly.

Barely blocking the swipe, Bellamy grunted, the sounds of grating metal filling the room as the blades slid across each other. Clarke didn’t look back, focussing instead on Octavia. When she reached her, she was frantic, trying to lift the weight of the beam on her own. The way it was lying across her kept her pinned down from the legs to the abdomen, restricting her movement so she could only reach the height of a half-decent crunch. Even for a woman as physically strong as Octavia, moving the beam was no easy feat. Clarke tried to comfort her. “It’s okay, we’re gonna be okay.” Her eyes searched Octavia’s, and she noted the water now reaching her ears. A few more inches and her head would be fully immersed. “Lift on three.” Clarke gripped the beam as the noises from the swordfight continued; harsh clangs of metals, grunts and groans. “One, two, three!” Together, they heaved, and Octavia tried to wiggle out. No luck. For all their strain and shaking muscles, they only managed a few millimetres before letting go of the dense wood. They tried again but got the same result. Clarke knew they’d only tire themselves out from the straining; that the two of them weren’t strong enough. One look at Octavia told her she knew the same.

“It’s okay, Clarke.” Octavia said, dejected but sure. There was a sad kind of smile on her face, one that didn’t quite meet her eyes, but was reassuring all the same. In her head, she briefly considered how many times she had cheated death over the years. Perhaps a part of her did die back in Shadow Valley, and the rest of her was finally catching up “Go. Get out of here.” She couldn’t have anyone else’s deaths on her conscience.

Clarke shook her head. She couldn’t accept this. They just needed something to leverage the beam with – a crowbar, something…

Searching the area for something useful, her eyes landed on the guns Roan had tossed earlier, now within reach. Just then, Bellamy cried out in pain, and her eyes snapped to him. A slash to his arm, and Roan preparing for another strike. Clarke dived for the pistol, aiming for Roan. As he raised his weapon, she squeezed the trigger. Jammed. “Shit,” she tried again, twice, but nothing. Bellamy parried the blow, but the old blade snapped, leaving him holding just the jewelled hilt as the metal clattered to the floor. He threw it at Roan, who easily dodged, and tossed his own weapon down before tackling Bellamy to the ground. Clarke discarded the dud gun, sending the pistol scattering into a puddle of seawater as she raised the sawn-off. The two men grappled, twisting and throwing each other around the sinking room, leaving her without a clean shot. 

Clarke hesitated. She couldn’t risk hitting Bellamy, not when they’re fighting hand to hand, and not with a weapon with a spray as wide as a shotgun. Turning back to Octavia, cold water lapping at her chin, a reckless idea formed. Clarke raised the weapon to the wall, aiming for the same spot as the bullet hole, and fired.

Noise erupted through the room as that portion of the wall was obliterated, water crashing through and knocking her off her feet. No time to check on Bellamy, Clarke dived for a submerged Octavia, using the rushing water as an aid to lift the beam just enough for her to wriggle out.

“Go!” Clarke shouted as she surfaced, pushing her towards the hole she had created, now a path to freedom. Turning to Bellamy and Roan, who had been separated by the tidal wave coursing through the room, she shouted to them. “Let’s go, we need to get out of here!”

Bellamy watched Roan hesitate. Water was knee height and rising fast, but his eyes were darting between treasures. Killing Bellamy was no longer a priority; they could settle it on solid ground, but when this ship sank, Roan knew the treasure would be buried with it. He reached down below the surface, coming back up with gold coins and shoving them into his pockets. 

“Leave it,” Bellamy warned as he waded towards Clarke, towards freedom. “It’ll weigh you down!”

A boom rattled above them, knocking all three of them over. An explosion – Azgeda, he guessed, but it caused the ceiling to creak and groan. In a split second, the space above them gave way, leaving wood and water rushing down on them hard. Bellamy caught Clarke as she was swept back into his chest by the force, the two of them tumbling backwards into a beam. With as much effort as they could muster, they swam through the chaos of the cargo hold, pushing on until they reached the hole. Up to their shoulders in water, Bellamy paused at the exit. He looked back to Roan, still grabbing as much as he could, struggling to keep his head above the surface. As much as he had betrayed him, Bellamy had known him for a long time, worked with him, trusted him, even. He couldn’t just leave him like that. “Drop the treasure, Roan!”

“No,” He spluttered, with noticeable effort, head disappearing and reappearing above the surface. “I can do it.”

“No, you can’t! Leave it!”

“Bellamy!” Clarke put a hand on his cheek, forcing him to face her. “He won’t listen. There’s not enough time.”

“Roan, please!” Bellamy pushed back against her hand, turning back to face the room again. He searched for his old friend, but couldn’t find him above the surface. “Roan!”

Clarke allowed him to wait for as long as she could bear, but the ship shuddered more violently with every passing second. “Bellamy, we’re out of time.” Still no sign of Roan, and recognising the torn look on Bellamy’s face, she spoke again, more firmly. “I’m sorry, Bellamy, but he’s gone. Now we have to go too.”

She took his hand and they breathed deeply as they broke through the hole together, tossed about by the artificial currents created from the continuing explosions around them. From the mouth of the cave, a small stream of golden sunlight slipped through, guiding them towards safety. If not for that, Clarke doubted she’d be able to tell which way was up. Her lungs screamed for air as she kicked up with all her might, not daring to break from Bellamy’s firm grip as they swam. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, they surfaced. Clarke and Bellamy gasped, gulping air like they had never breathed before. Each breath eased the throbbing pain in their chests and calmed their pounding hearts. Treading water for a few moments to recover, they scanned for Octavia. Instead, Clarke spotted the bright orange of her waterproof pack; it must have come loose in the commotion. Thankful now for the colour that demanded to be seen, she made a grab for it as Octavia shouted.

“Over here!” Her voice carried from the rocks to their left where she lay, and she beckoned them with an outstretched hand, the other gripping her right leg. “Hurry!”

Bellamy made a start for her, while Clarke paused to follow her line of sight. She was looking at something, and even from this distance, Clarke could tell she was worried. Finding the source of her panic, Clarke cursed and hastened after Bellamy. The explosives Azgeda had left in their wake had weakened the rocks surrounding them, damaging the structural integrity of the whole cave. Large sections of the walls were beginning to shift, stalactites loosening and threatening to fall from above.

“The cave’s coming down,” Octavia explained as Bellamy pulled himself up. “I can’t run.”

He gave her a once over, noting the tear in her trousers and the large bruise on her right leg. Only shallow cuts, but it must be hell to bear weight. He helped her to her feet, slinging her right arm around his shoulder as Clarke joined them, echoing her sentiments. “We’ve gotta go.”

Delicately, he bent down to scoop Octavia’s legs up in his arms, carrying her bridal style as Clarke lightly pushed them forwards, eager to leave before the place collapsed. The mouth of the cave was close, but it was like being in the middle of an earthquake. The ground shook, deadly rocks fell from the sky, and they were forced to dodge and dive over the rocky path. As they neared the open air, a thundering groan broke through from above, and they watched as an enormous piece of rock began to crack and shift, beginning to slide down to cover the exit. Without a word, they each found an extra surge of speed to power them on, headed at a full sprint towards safety. The sheet of rock gained speed as they did, racing them to the finish line, with the loser entombed in the cave forever. Just a few feet to go, it was a close race, Clarke breaching through the gap first. Bellamy lagged behind, slowed down by a wounded Octavia, and Clarke shouted encouragement as the slab inched closer to the ground. Sizing up the gap, Bellamy knew they wouldn’t make it together. With a hurried apology to Octavia, he rearranged his grip to throw her clear ahead of him to safety. She screamed, and Clarke scrambled to catch her and drag her out of harm’s way as Bellamy dived after. He launched his body forwards with every last ounce of strength in his body, not looking back as he felt the world around him shake and crumble, rocks toppling. The pain of the rough landing was eased by the wave of relief when he found himself at Clarke’s feet, relatively unharmed, and sat up to watch as the slab of rock blocked the entrance he had flung himself through moments ago.

“Kane, we made it, we’re alive.” Clarke spoke into the radio.

“Speak for yourself,” muttered Octavia, wincing as she sat up straight and checked herself over.

Static crackled. “Where are you?”

Clarke fumbled with something in her pack, then held her arm up in the air and fired off a flare, answering Kane’s question. 

“On my way.” Kane’s voice had never sounded sweeter

-

“They still sleeping?”

Octavia bit back a grunt as she pushed herself off her seat, favouring her good leg. One hand on the low roof to steady herself, she gripped the curved wall as she made the slow walk to the back of the plane where Clarke and Bellamy lay. Once they got on the plane and Clarke had patched their wounds, Bellamy had asked for a private talk. She supposed he had a lot of explaining to do. Even though she had only known Clarke for a short time, she could see how deeply she cared for him, and how hurt she was that he had kept such a big secret from her. But despite all that, when it came down to it, when it really mattered, they could count on each other. Clarke really had gone to the ends of the earth for Bellamy, and if he had any brains, he would never let that woman go another day without knowing he’d do exactly the same for her. They had spoken in low tones for about two hours, never shouting or crying, but their body language spoke for itself. After they seemed to resolve whatever it was they were talking about, they had embraced for a long time, and Octavia had picked up a conversation with Kane so as not to intrude. It had been about another hour now, and when she reached them, they were nestled into each other, chests rising and falling, softly snoring. They looked so peaceful and she didn’t want to wake them – God knows they’d earned a rest. A jacket lay on the ground next to them; she assumed it was Clarke’s from the size, and she fiddled with it for a moment, carefully placing a few things in the pockets, before draping it over them like a blanket.

She walked as quietly as she could back to her seat next to Kane, though she imagined it would take a lot more than a few clumsy steps to wake the pair from their slumber. “Dead to the world.”

His eyes never left the view in front of him, and Octavia could hardly blame him. They had long since left Polis behind, but they were flying over an archipelago of tropical islands, bursting with luscious greens, and crystal-clear waters. She’d spent over a decade locked inside a jail cell, dreaming of a view like this, and she swore she would never take it for granted again.

“They went through hell,” This time, Kane did shoot her a look. She winced at his tone, at his unfinished sentence. They went through hell for you.

“I know,” Her voice was weaker than she had intended. She dipped her chin and swallowed hard before repeating, stronger this time. “I know.”

Kane paused, and his voice levelled, shedding the judgemental tone. He’d made his point. “How do you feel now that it’s over?”

She took a moment before answering, wanting to be as truthful as possible. For years upon years, even before Shadow Valley, she’d been imagining how she would feel after she found the treasure. Even if this wasn’t exactly what she had in mind, she wanted to find the right words to express her thoughts. Part of her was proud, of course, because she did it. She finally got to the end of the trail, found the pinnacle of her life’s work. But the other part was devastated that it happened the way it did. Pick any emotion, and at least a small part of her was feeling it. She could say absolutely anything and it would be true. “I don’t know,” she snapped her eyes shut and cursed herself for such a lame answer. Anything but that, idiot. “I mean, I’ve been dreaming about this since I first heard the rumours. I guess I thought that once I found it, I’d feel…” her eyebrows knotted together, searching for the right word. “Satisfied? Complete?”

With a deep sigh, she let her head hit the back of the co-pilot’s chair. Kane prompted her to continue. “But you don’t.”

“No. Yes. Maybe?” she groaned, burying her head in her hands. “Part of me is. But look at what it cost, for me – and Bell, Clarke, and you. Jeez, I even feel bad for Roan. It wasn’t worth all that. Except… there’s still a part of me that wants more. Not for the treasure, but the adventure. I’ve been locked up so long I feel like a bomb waiting to go off – like I need to live the fifteen years I missed out on all at once or I’ll explode.”

Kane considered her answer. This was the most honest she had been with him since her return. Her mind was still as sharp as it ever was, and before this mess, she had been a valuable asset on any job. “I might be able to help with that.”

Her ears perked up. “How?”

“Got a couple contacts always looking for interesting jobs. Lots of chatter recently about The Anomaly.” He gave her a meaningful side-eye. This was another long-forgotten, quasi-fairy tale mystery that was right up her alley.

“You’re not serious,” She replied, incredulous. “I thought that was a myth.”

He hummed, and she could hear the twinkle in his eye. “Lotta folk said that about Polis. Shame, though.” When Octavia made a noise of confusion, he clarified. “About Polis. All that treasure, gone. Buried under all that rubble.”

A soft smile danced over Octavia’s face and she shut her eyes, relaxing back into her seat. Very quietly, too low for Kane to hear over the rumble of the engine, she spoke. “Not all of it.”

  
-

  
Bellamy had had more than his fair share of exhaustion. But despite that, despite all his years hunting for treasure over the course of his career, he had never, ever, been more exhausted than he was right now. When he and Clarke finally stumbled home, barely a backpack between them, they were left not just with the usual post-job feeling of tiredness, but also the the physical and emotional toll of what just happened. The door to their house shut behind them and Bellamy’s legs gave way, no longer having to put on a façade for the outside world. When it was just Clarke and him, he could be himself.

“I’m so sorry, Clarke.” He breathed into her hair as she crouched down to embrace him. “I lied to you, I put you in danger-”

“Shh, stop,” She soothed, “we talked about this. Clean slate, okay? What matters is that we’re alive. All of us.”

They stayed like that for a while, before Clarke helped him up to the bathroom. In the shower, they cleaned the dirt and muck of the last few days off of each other, the hot water and soap almost therapeutic, as if they were washing off the events of the past. Aside from a few stings from cuts, for the most part, the shower was curative. The hot water relaxed their aching muscles, massaged their bruises, banished every trace of Polis from their bodies. The next few weeks were spent banishing Polis from their minds.

Slowly, they fell back into their usual rhythm. Bellamy went back to work, part-time at first, but gradually building back up to his normal week. Clarke started spending more time at the computer researching and writing articles, though he noticed the stories she chose had a little more adventurous slant to them. Not that he blamed her; he had been spending more of his spare time in their attic, too, where they kept all of the items they had collected from past adventures. One evening he had found their old scrapbook and brought it down to her, and they spent the night leafing through the pages together, reliving the memories through the journal entries and polaroid photos stuck to the pages. He was probably too old now to run around guns blazing on illegal jobs, but he supposed he missed the adventure of it all. That feeling of accomplishment at the end of the trail. 

As the weeks turned in to months, the absence of adventure still pained him some, and he tried to fill the gaps in whatever way he could. When Kane or Octavia stopped by for dinner, they would regale him with stories of whatever new and exciting job they had come across, giving him updates and showing him photos; he even gave advice on occasion for a cipher or puzzle. Lately though, Octavia had been less interested in the job, which surprised him. For all her talk of going out to live the life she missed out on, she gave it up pretty freely when she met Lincoln. Kane’s old contact had made Bellamy wary at first, not sure whether to trust him with his little sister, but his concerns disappeared when Octavia brought Lincoln to meet him. The four of them had gone to the beach for a barbecue, and seeing the two of them together made it obvious they were falling for each other hard. He made her laugh like no one else, they danced together by the bonfire, and splashed each other in the water, smiles never leaving their faces. While they were lost in their own world, Clarke had nudged him and commented, “Reminds me of us once upon a time,”. 

Bellamy had pulled her in for a kiss, and replied, “Reminds me of us now.” Since then, he couldn’t do anything but approve of the two, and it didn’t surprise him when they quickly moved in together.

Without Octavia’s stories, though, he had to fill the hole in his life some other way. He created a treasure hunt for his students as an extra credit project, which went down brilliantly. He had needed Clarke’s help for ideas with some of the clues, and on the evening they sat down to map it all out, she had studied him with a curious look on her face. “You miss this, don’t you?”. Bellamy had stopped in his tracks. Her tone wasn’t judgemental or annoyed, but soft, observant. When he met her eyes, her smile told him she missed it too. 

Of course, though the treasure hunt was a hit with his students, it wasn’t quite the same when you were the one leaving the clues. Today, he was at his desk at home, rifling through papers and sorting out lesson plans, the glare of his computer screen reflecting off the large, black-framed glasses on his face. Clarke entered with a knock. 

“Hey,” she sounded almost hesitant, tiptoeing her way in. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Yeah,” he pushed away from his desk a touch. “of course.”

“I have a confession to make.” Clarke perched on the end of his desk, facing him. “I know you’ve missed the old life. I have too, in a way, and I’ve been thinking – I think I’ve found a way for us to do it legally.”

Bellamy’s body perked up at her words, mind swimming with questions. How? When?

“I’ve got a few connections in the film and TV industries, and there’s a production company willing to take us on to make a documentary series about finding rare and lost treasures. Bellamy, I quit my job.”

Her last four words hit him like a ton of bricks, stunning him into stammers. “That’s… that’s – Clarke that sounds great, but I don’t – I don’t think we can afford to take a gamble like-”

She tossed something small and hard into his chest, cutting him off. The item fell into his lap, and he picked it up, recognising it instantly. A solid gold coin, about half the size of his palm, with an insignia on the back that he would know anywhere. This was a coin from Polis.

He opened his mouth to ask how this was possible, but Clarke answered before he got the words out. “Octavia.” Bellamy’s eyebrows furrowed. Octavia and Lincoln had been so busy with their house move that she hadn’t been in contact for a couple of weeks now. Clarke clarified. “The day after we got back from Polis, I was putting all our clothes in the laundry, when I found that in my jacket pocket.” She pointed to the coin. “Along with a bunch more.”

Bellamy’s eyes went back to the coin, running his fingers over the ridges and grooves. She must have slipped it in when they weren’t looking. At least that explained how Octavia and Lincoln could afford their new place.

Clarke could tell he wasn’t able to form words at the moment, so she went on. “I think in our attempt to stay on the right side of the law we may have… overcorrected. We need to be out there, both of us do. We’re at our best when we’re working together. Besides – you? A desk job? I don’t think so.” She teased, testing his reaction with a gentle nudge.

Eventually, he dragged his eyes from the coin to look at her, at the knowing smile on her face, and he drew one out to match hers.

“Do you want to do this?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

With a flourish, he sent the papers flying off his desk and pulled her in closer, hands cupping her face as he brought her in for a kiss. As usual, Clarke was right, and sometimes it felt like she knew him better than he knew himself. He had missed this, the two of them working side by side, the head to his heart, and he knew he’d follow this woman anywhere. When they broke apart, he embraced her, and gave his response. “Together.”


End file.
